


Before It Cracks

by ScarTissue, sneerbehindasmile (ScarTissue)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Jack Has Issues, M/M, Onesided BlackIce, Original Character(s), angsty shits of guardians, but we camt talk about our feelings like adults can we, si does everyone else, this gone get intense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarTissue/pseuds/ScarTissue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarTissue/pseuds/sneerbehindasmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch has new tricks, and they really should've learned by now.</p><p> </p><p> Jack's about to find out exactly what it means to be a Guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I can stop

To say the day was strange would be... inadequete. Very much inadeqete. 

Jack couldn't help but replay the oddness of Easter 2012 yet again as he tumbled through the air, riding the wind home from the workshop. He'd been swept up in avant garde things before, hell his whole life was an anonmaly, but this took the cake. Like the Italian-wedding-cookies-and-buttercream-pops-paid-for-it triple layer (not that he'd snuck into Zeus and Hera's renewals to try some, no Sir).  
Yes, the day was odd. 

And over.

The thought stirred more terror and relief in Jack than had any right to coexist in a body.What if there was a stray fearling running amok? What if Pitch came back in the night? Would he even be able to fight? Or would Jack finally get some peace for a few hours? Or maybe... Jack sucked in a ragged breath at the mere thought.

What if it had all been a dream?

 

No. He'd felt Pitch toss him around, smelled his rancid scent far too close for comfort. He had a multitude of scratches from fearling hooves, and his whole chest was mottled purple and black. He'd have to take care of that...  
Jack could even lay claim to seven baby teeth lying deceptively innocent in his hoodie pocket, cradled in a gilt and ivory box bearing his youngest (oldest?) face. For all the trouble he'd caused for them, Jack knew he wouldn't be looking at them for a while. Probably a long while.

The substantiality of the box, nor the burning ache in his ribs and limbs comforted him though they ought to assauge his fears. 300 years took things from you. The constant flux of real and imagined slipped away at times when... Well. When you had a lot of time to forget the difference, and no one to remind you. Jack wasn't a creature of personal falsehoods. He could lie to anyone but himself, and it was perfectly within his capacity to slip into a fatantastical day dream while flying. He could explain a crash landings leftover physical side with a made up story, even one with Boogiemen, badass Fairies, Cossacks, fallen stars and 6'1 rabbits.  
Yes, it was very plausible for Jack.

 

So it was without much vigor that Jack slowed down and stumbled to the side of his lake. The sluggish climb up his favorite tree due to his injuries was all the more daunting in face of an uncertain morning. The Guardians had said there would be a follow up meeting the next evening, after some well-earned sleep. Jack tried not to think about it. 

And tried, very hard, to ignore that insesant niggling of dangerous hope in his chest.  
At least until the morning. 

 

And the thumping of large feet approaching woke him.


	2. I'm Not Calling Myself A Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack doesn't remember his dreams, real or imagined, Phil is grossly underpaid for this shit and Bunny is taking the first step to realizing he may have fucked up somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and I did not like each other. I rewrote it 5 times.
> 
> Before you even read my take on accents, please bear in mind I'm a teenager from Ohio with a shoddy internet connection.

"-ackson!"  
Jack stirred slightly in his sleep, lost in a dream.  
"Jackson wake up! What holds thee? The sun has risen! Jackson!"  
"Just a moment..." He murmured quietly. Mother sounded cheery this morning, perhaps he could get away with chores done late. The mere thought of cutting wood and shoveling stables was agony right now. Jack snuggled deeper into scratchy linen and let out a content sigh. The sun was so warm drifting through the open window, the breeze so gentle and cool, how could she begrudge him a simple moment?  
Just a simple moment...  
"Jackson! Wake!"  
Just a moment...  
"Jack!"  
Just...  
"FROSTBITE! Get yer ass down here!"

 

"Huh?" Jack jolted awake at the new voice, scrambling for a branch to grip as he almost fell from his perch. Snow was shaken off the tree as he righted himself, and turned to look down at the owner of the voice. Bunny stood exasperated at the base of the oak, tapping one hind paw in annoyance.  
"Finally! Get yer ass down here, yer late for the meetin." The older male turned and started for more solid ground, no doubt to make a tunnel, leaving Jack blinking in confusion behind him. 

"Wha?" Jack intoned to himself silently, completely bewildered. He had a meeting with the Easter Bunny? Jack certainly was awake now. He and Bunny had had no contact whatsoever since the disaster of Easter 68', barring a few accidental run ins with not so much as a look at the other. What the hell was going on? 

Bunny snorted loudly from in front of his tunnel a few feet away.  
"I said get down here! MiM knows some of us don' got all day to lollygag about."  
Bunny crossed his arms as Jack slid off his tree and ambled towards him, wincing slightly as his ribs creaked oddly on impact.  
"Oh MiM, what is this about..." Jack thought, already 100% down with today. He was not in the mood to be told off about doing his job this early in spring, thank you very much. Especially with the peculiar pulling of his skin nagging at him as he swung his staff across his shoulders. He must've crash landed somewhere last night... 

Bunny's stern face softened almost imperceptibly as Jack reached him and he was greeted with tired eyes, stopping at the edge of the pond.  
"Others sent me ta get ya, ya bludger. We all need some more sleep, but Guardians really should be punctual."

 

....

Guardians?

 

For the second time in the last two days, memories hit Jack like a ton of bricks as he relived the night prior. Bunny's words triggered a violent recollection of the battle, the kids and his own oath. Jack swallowed a gasp and let the experience wash over him like a wave. The whole thing lasted only a second, if that, but it floored Jack into stumbling a bit as he went to stand at the edge of the tunnel. He straightened before he needed help, but it didn't escape Bunny's notice.  
"We're going over general debriefing today, and giving ya some Guardian rules and such. Nothing ya shouldn't already know. And disobey," he added. "But Sandy gets checked out at North's clinic this time as well. Get ya leg taken care of, yea?"

 

Jack shuffled his feet a bit to prove one last time he was awake, and then nodded. "Sounds good, Kangaroo." Jack countered Bunny's sour face at the nickname with a smirk of his own.  
He could play cool for now.

 

And have nice, long, trojan war size freak out later. 

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

The workshop was relatively quiet when Jack and Bunny climbed the stairs to North's infirmary, which was not a comfort to Jack. Not a soul was there to be seen in the hall leading up to it, and the humming of random machines only made the large wooden doors at its end slightly less imposing.

Jack was used to constant noise; wind howling at him at all hours, insects buzzing and animals moving around, even the ever present roar of a city below him. It was he could do not to sing or something to fill the corridor. 

"It always this quiet?" Jack asked softly, subconsciously adjusting to the silence. "Huh?" Apparently he'd broken Bunny out of deep thought. "Naw, usually loud as bells in this place. Kinda creepy if ya ask me." Bunny attempted a shudder but only managed to shake the spare snow out if his fur. Jack snickered openly and- ah, there it was, second "look" of the day. He mentally added to his side of the Winter vs. Spring scoreboard as Bunny stalked onward to the entrance of the infirmary. Bunny pushed open the doors and started to call out.

 

"Hey! Anybody hom- oof!"  
The older male never finished his sentence as he was ambushed by a very cross phil and hoisted in the air by his ankle. "Put me down ya gumby! I'm not hur- Ah strewth not that! Ah!"  
Phil dropped Bunny without ceremony in a claw footed tub to the left corner of the room. Or rather side, as it was a half sphere with two baths at each end, and four beds arranged to hug the walls. Jack chuckled as Bunny was clamped tightly in Phil's grasp and scrubbed furiously with what seemed to steel wool.  
"Oh man, I seriously need to buy that camera." Jack said between snickers.  
Bunny stopped wriggling and turned his glare full force on Jack's pale figure, still hovering in the threshold.  
"If Ah see one picture-"  
Phil took his momentary pause to dunk the Pooka and rinse him off.  
"Ha! I knew ve'd be seeing you late Jack!"  
Jack spun on his heel to look at North, who was prodding at Sandy as Tooth directed her fairies from the corner. Jack at least had the decency smile sheepishly at the old Cossack.  
"Sorry about that. Overslept."  
Jack flinched at a loud splash from the other side of the room. "Not to break your house rules or anything, but I don't have to do that too right?"  
North smiled indulgently at the boy, and Sandy flashed a picture of a golden clock and sun above his head.  
"Then ve make alarm for you, da? And no. Just to get black sand out. Vill not stick on you like Bunny."  
"I heard that!"  
North ignored him, and rose from his seat beside Sandy. He grabbed tooth's arm to alert her and headed for the door.  
"Come, ve must be on to meeting. You do not seem hurt?"  
Jack shook his head. He wasn't anywhere near ready to get poked at in his skivvies by... by anyone really. Ribs be damned, he just didn't deal well with touch. It was ironic, honestly. The one thing he wanted most overwhelmed him into avoiding it. 

"I'm fine, thanks. You okay Sandy?"  
The small star smiled brightly and gave him a thumbs up. He floated out the door behind North and Tooth. Jack watched them go with a small smile on his face. He could hear Bunny grumbling to himself as Phil near violently toweled him off.  
Jack breathed out slowly.  
He could freak out later. Yea. 

 

"Hey, Frostbite." Jack turned around to look at Bunny, now fairly dry and only slightly fluffy. He was a saint for not laughing, a saint.  
"You get that leg checked out, ya hear?" Jack blushed lightly at being found out.  
"Mind your own business, 'roo. S'my leg."  
And arm. And rib cage.  
Bunny humphed as he slipped his bracers back on. "Yea well, like I said. Yer a guardian now. We may not like each other, but ya gotta get used to..." he gestured around the infirmary; "all this. Ah know they can be exasperating."  
Jack turned his head to hide his quizzical expression and started to saunter out the door. He called back over his shoulder to Bunny.  
"Why're you so friendly all the sudden?"  
Bunny stopped mid stride from following Jack.  
"Ah... Ya saved ma holiday. Little late, but ya did. So let me patch ya up."  
Jack finally tilted his head to look at Bunny. They held each other's stare for what seemed like an eternity. Jack eventually had to tear his gaze away from Bunny's intensely green eyes (far too intense, for god'ssakequitlookingatme) and focused on the floor to hide his wide, blinding grin.  
"I... Thanks, Bunny."  
They continued onward to the main floor of the workshop in silence. Hearty laughter and Baby Teeth's twittering was drifting from hall. Jack breathed in deeply and smelled peppermint and chocolate chip cookies, and maybe sweet grass from the pooka beside him.

 

If in a very backhanded way, dreams do come true, he supposed.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Jack somersaulted in mid air as he rode the wind, somewhere over the Baltic sea. His chest was taped up tightly and spare bandages filled his pockets, instead of his baby teeth's white and gold box. He'd quietly returned the box to Tooth as he left for the night. She hadn't said anything, only gazed at him with a sad understanding in her eyes.  
He was grateful. Bunny was also merciful, simply tossing Jack gauze and antiseptic before the boy leapt out the window to work. Northern Europe was far overdue, in his opinion. Jack wasn't alone in that thought either. The group had only an hour that evening before over half of them had to work, and scheduled another meeting for the following Friday.  
It was currently Tuesday morning.  
Jack wasn't a creature of personal falsehood. He could concoct a fantastical daydream to explain a crash landing. Even one with Cossacks, badass Fairies, fallen stars, Pookas, and the tiniest, tiniest chance of forgiveness for misunderstandings.  
A dream to just maybe have a friend.  
A family.  
So until Friday, no one had to know he panicked and smashed into a tree halfway to Bavaria, when he felt the wrappings on his chest and forearm. And again in Estonia. And Belarus.  
Jack would hold onto that gauze like it was keeping him afloat in a storm.  
(It was).


	3. So The Good News Is I Fucked Up (But Nobody Has To Know That)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aster can't make excuses for himself anymore, Jack's still freaking out and you should listen to your sub conscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "throws update"
> 
> "hides from my own bad writing"

Not a lot of things bothered E. Aster Bunnymund.  
That isn't to say Aster didn't get agitated fairly often. He hated his first name, leaving him constantly irked by it (he gave out his middle, not fond of it either, and only kept both out of respect for his parents). His holiday was a stressful and frenzied preparation every damn year, the weather never quite suited Aster anywhere but Australia and the Warren, smelling hope wasn't so much pleasant as disgusting most of the time, North picked at him until he exploded, the groundhog just sucked-  
But.   
Jack Frost bothered him.

 

And scarily enough, he was beginning to figure out why. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Aster had first heard of Jack only a hundred years prior, despite the kid's age. There had been a storm on Christmas, he vaguely remembered, in some American town called Burgess. North had been furious, reeking of a thwarted hope. The rancid smell made Aster sneeze. He'd portaled into the Warren without so much as a by-your-leave, toting two barrels of peach brandy and demanding a listening ear. Aster simply didn't drink that close to Easter, which is most likely the only reason he could discern North's slur as he spilled his metaphorical guts.

 

"Thing is, my friend, is boy does good thing! I have more believers in town this year than ever before, but... Boy is no vhere to be found. Perfect Vhite Christmas for children, Perfect! And no one to reward.  
Vhat is deal, I am wondering. Makes bad feeling 'hic' in my belly."

 

Aster had continued to paint beside him in silence, not bothering to comment. North tended to barrel through his vents no matter what was said on the side. He hadn't thought anything of it the time; it was just another winter spirit, doing his job.   
He probably hadn't even known it was Christmas. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

Aster hadn't heard of or seen Jack for another twenty years thereafter. That amount of time was so miniscule to him, he might not have noticed it's passing without Easter's growing popularity. On the 34th Easter of that century, however, a certain spot in pennsylvania caught his eye. It wasn't the first time Aster had seen this place on his map, always a bit brighter than the surrounding area. Aster remembered scratching his head as he mulled over the name, running the list in his head. It was a B... Burk? Burg? Burgess. Thats the one.  
Jack Frosts little town.  
That little american town wasn't so little anymore, but nor was the rest of the country. It never failed turn out nicely, in Aster's opinion. High time to go see in action at any rate.

 

Aster had shivered at the chill in the air as he hid behind the church that year, watching the kids. The grass was frosted lightly, sparkling in the high noon sun and making the googies have a stark contrast on the white. It was rather nice, he reluctantly had to admit. Aster knew though, that the weather wasn't quite right for the lovely scene to be natural. A small smile graced his features momentarily, despite the cold. 

 

Frost had to know what day it was.

 

Aster had faded into the shade of the forest to open a tunnel, and maybe thank the boy for his backdrop work. It was all in the details, he knew better than anyone. Quiet little things like a certain beloved pattern or favorite color held onto belief in a tighter grip than any lavish spectacle could (he still loved to remind North of this). Frost might not be a bad kid, he decided. 

 

Aster opened the tunnel home, casting one last glance around the forest. Just as North had said, the boy seemed to have disappeared into thin air. All this could just have been a farewell to Frost's territory before he went north for spring. It was common for winter elementals to be nomadic. He'd have liked to said thanks though.

 

Aster stood there scanning the woods one last time, and jumped into the tunnel a few minutes later. Maybe next time. The opening closed behind him only after he started to free fall, slowed by the near frozen ground. He paid no mind.

 

He caught a glimpse through it though, of brown pants and a shepherds crook. The boys pretty face was drawn for the single second he saw it, blue eyes hard as crystal. He looked so young.  
There wasn't anything he could smell but the forest. 

 

Aster had locked up the warren like a bank vault that night, and headed for the workshop.  
He needed that drink now.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Aster preferred not to think of Easter 1968. He'd successfully made excuses to himself as to why he never returned to Burgess until then. Other places needed attention, there was only so much time, it was someones else's territory, and they worked because Aster could lie to himself. For a while. 

 

34 years passed before Aster went back for Frost.   
Or rather, his head on a stake.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

The storm of '68 hit the north eastern quarter of the United States like heaven coming down. Power lines iced over, schools shut down for days after spring break ended, city services suspended, and egg hunts were cancelled.   
All of them.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

The storm system was incredibly complex, humans would come to say. It would be immortalized in the history books with the name of the small town it hit hardest branding it. 

 

The blizzard of Burgess.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

Aster finally got the red out of his eyes three hours after sundown.

 

He was known for his blackouts. It made him a soldier to fear on his home world and far beyond. Aster had laid waste to battalions when properly provoked, the bar for it rising as the millenia tempered his hot head down. But to deliberately attack his holiday, after letting him think he might have helped him once, sought him out to thank, the sheer nerve-  
A sharp crack broke Aster out of his rage. He brought up his hand to see a finger, bent oddly from the middle. And brought up the other to see it covered mysteriously in blood. Aster suddenly felt the cold of the snow he was sitting in, the sharp pains in his hands and forearms. 

He could feel the blood pouring from Frost on his legs, knees clenched on either side of the boy's stomach.

The boy whimpered from under him, startling Aster again. His nose was broken, spilling blood down his shirt and neck. Both eyes were getting black quickly.   
"I'm sorry," the kid croaked weakly, his voice deeper and more raw than expected. Like he'd been screaming. "I'm really sorry. I lost control of myself, its all my fault. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I know I ruined it. I'm sorry." Aster was confused for a second. Sorry? For getting the tar beat out of him? Oh no, this kid needed an apology, not the other way around. Aster's hands lowered slowly, and would've cradled the boy's cheek, where stains of blood mixed with tears, if not for his swollen face. He needed to get this kid some help, and find that sorry son of a bitch who beat up kids, let alone a winter spirit who cared enough about kids to try and make Easter special-

 

Wait a tick.

 

Aster jumped back as if he had been burned. He sprinted to open a tunnel home, get the hell away from this mess. Bastard got what he deserved. Why should he feel bad? He turned around to look at the boy, lying in a crimson spot on the unbroken snow blanketing the ground.   
"Ya betta not, or Ah'll be back."  
Frost didn't move. Aster was satisfied with that, why shouldn't he be? If he could smell nothing but blood and snow and anger and pain, why should it bother him at all? The boy was a troublemaker. No hope to do anything but harm, surely. Of course he couldn't smell it. It was there, he could feel it, but if it was so weak he couldn't get its scent or even determine what it was it couldn't be good. He didn't care. Not at all. 

 

If Aster sat in silence in front of the entrance to the eastern United States for the next three days after, he told himself it was his urge to get his believers back drawing him. If he now carried a medical kit strapped to his bandolier, well, the world was a dangerous place.

 

Aster could lie to himself like he could lie to no one else.   
So if he woke up in a cold sweat every night for the next two years, and every six months or so to this day, with the picture of Jack's perfect porcelain face bloodied, and his too skinny form broken and unmoving in the snow burned into his retinas it was just his stupid conscience. Frost didn't even deserve it.   
If he heard Jack scream and plead for him to stop as Aster mercilessly ripped into the boy until he simply stopped, laid there and took his rage, until his drowning pool blue eyes went dead every time he slept for those two years and every six months or so it was just his conscience. 

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

In the coming years Aster saw Jack all of twice, and never spoke to him. The boy never had a scent besides his bodies own to follow. Then this Easter happened.   
And Aster had been forced to tell the truth. 

 

The truth being that Jack had been so isolated that he was forced to figure out his powers on his own, and they were lucky he hadn't killed half the country in that storm. The truth was Jack bothered him, unsettled him, not because he couldn't smell the hope, but because Jack kept it so tamped down it almost wasn't there.   
The truth was that Aster beat the ever loving shit out of a lonely boy for what was starting to look like a big misunderstanding and then left him there to die. 

 

So this may be why Aster found himself in a part of the Basque mountains he had already mapped out, vaguely gazing at flora he had already seen, and determinedly looking for the pale slip of a child whose dimensions matched the length of medical tape strapped to his bandolier. It'd been his for forty years, if he's being honest.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

Jack sniffed and made a face of disgust at the scene before him. Wendigo were never a clean kill, when you could kill them. Black blood covered the forest floor as a small nest of the demons lay dead as stones, embedded in the frost. A thin layer of ice covered the gruesome pile, making it glitter in the afternoon sun. The whole thing was sort of eye catching in a I-might-puke-my-guts-out way. 

It wasn't uncommon to stumble across a scene like this for Jack, or any winter spirit. A certain amount of carnage simply came with the territory. Wendigo were only deep snow dwellers, burrowing in tree roots for the rest of the year. It wasn't unusual for a nest to have gone stir crazy and slaughtered each other in the late summer or early fall. But this early in the spring?   
By all accounts, and Jack had a few, they should still be digging.

 

Jack knew he shouldn't pay this any mind. The creatures were violent at best, a whole nest was a powder keg. It was liable to explode at anytime. 

 

But still...

 

Jack re-iced the mess for good measure. He'd return the next night, maybe bring it up at the meeting. 

 

Jack gulped as the thought came back to him. He pawed at the strip of gauze wound around his forearm.   
The meeting.  
Grinning suddenly seemed appropriate. So did hibernating in a cave. In Antarctica.  
He wondered if the other Guardians ever felt this way.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

Alone in a dark forest, the pile of corpses Jack stumbled across lay still and cold in the night.  
No one was around to see the black blood drain from their bodies, slide off their bones and sink into the shadowy ground beneath them.


	4. Out Of My Sight, Still Running Through My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which clues are missed, Jack gets his moment and we could have avoided this with a courtesy call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though guys. Cell phones.

Tooth fluttered anxiously through North Americas left tower, squinting in the harsh morning glare as she buzzed past marble shelves filled with her gilt and ivory teeth boxes, while her fairies flitted about madly. Busy was never abnormal around the tooth palace, but this was always hellish. 

Hockey season! Broken teeth, bitten tongues, ice burned mouths and all in chase of a bloody puc. What a construct, one Tooth was convinced was made just to irk her.  
" Who wants to get their face smashed in the ice anyways?" She nearly shreiked as a bag of teeth to rival North's Christmas loot was hauled through the the window to her left. They spilled out of their sack and scattered across the tiles, quickly being swooped up one by one and placed in their own boxes. Tooth sank to the floor and picked at them, despairing at their condition.  
"Oh all those pretty molars! Just look at them!"  
Tooth groaned in frustration at the broken teeth at her feet.

 

Thursday practices were always brutal. Fridays were better, for any kind of meet up. So much less aggression. Maybe she'd even be able to reign North and Bunny in... 

 

Tooth smiled at that thought. It was an odd thing, seeing everyone so soon. It'd been 300 years since she had been alone with North, let alone Bunny or Sandy. MiM help them, could they even hold a conversation at this point?  
And poor Jack... Tooth made a note to herself to talk to the newest Guardian.  
Guilt struck her like a hammer everytime she thought about him. If only she had known...

 

Tooth began to sort teeth on autopilot, lost in her own head. 

 

Too bad, really. She might've noticed juinor hockey season ended a week ago.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

"NYET! I SAID BLUE!"

 

Phil groaned for the tenth time that afternoon.  
Blue, red, the kid would like the toy! 

 

MiM knows she deserved one. Phil liked this girl, little Janie from the midwest. She always made the nice list, always asked for toys for her sibling and parents as well as herself. Phil fell into thought as he repainted the tea set, white porcelin with what used to be poppies now turning into indigo bachealor's buttons on the sides. "Nice kids deserve gifts," he thought, though they couldn't give them all the time. He hoped a tea party could console the child.

 

Her letter, scrawled out in February had requested a tea set, a puppy, perfume for her mother, a watch for her father and a better attitude for her brother.

 

Jane corin sent in another letter though, one that tugged at Phil's heartstrings harder than it had any right to after all this time. A tear stained scrap of notebook arrived later that month, pleading for her big brother to return from where ever he had been taken. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

The late afternoon sun glowed as it hung low on the horizen, framing the newly budding trees in Burgess quite nicely. Jack crossed his arms and clutched his staff to his chest, trying not to accidently ice anything while he ambled through town. He wanted that spot on the nice list.

 

Jack yawned widely as he passed a group of kids on his way home, drawing pictures in the dirt on the edge of the city. It was too late in the year to hurl a snowball, but a man can dream. The new Guardian mentally smacked himself. "Nice list, Frost. Remember the nice list."

 

"Jack?"  
Jack stopped dead in his tracks.  
He turned around swiftly, eyes blown wide as saucers, to address the familiar voice, one he had only vaguely hoped, but never expected, to hear again. 

 

Jaime Bennet's quizzical expression met his own, brow quirked in amusement with a smirk on his freckled face.  
"Who're you talking to?"  
"Uhh..."  
Jack stuggled to compose himself as the kids snickered, misconstruing his shock for embaressment. A grin bloomed on his pale face as they laughed, clamping the oncoming shit storm of emotion down in a record two seconds.  
He could freak out later. 

 

"Hey! Talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence, I'll thank you to know."  
Jack swung his staff out in a arc to tap the tree next to him, spreading a web of frost on its rough bark. The children paused in their laughter to ooo and ahhh at the fern like pattern. Jack stifled a giggle at their reaction. He'd always been a show off.  
"So you guys skipped dinner to play in the woods? Or did you just miss me?"  
Pippa sprung up from her spot and sprinted towards him, clutching a stack of computer paper.  
"We came to show you these! We made them in art class, at school."  
Jack's smile was unfailing, even as his arms began to itch from the healing scratches. He steadfastly ignored it as he flipped through the pictures, each a mess of scrawled blue, white and brown figures.  
"Did you- Is this me?'  
"Uh huh! They're for the elementaries art show. We have to tell a story with our entry, so we thought it might help you drum up believers." "Everybody in town goes." Caleb added as the group gravitated toward Jack.

 

Jack drew in a shaky breath. There must be fifty pictures here.  
They had done all this for him.  
"I-Thank you. So much. They're all great."  
Jaime quietly slipped beside Jack and grasped his elbow. He smiled softly, as if to say he understood.  
"You're welcome, Jack. We should go get some dinner, and you should go get some sleep. You look like you need it."  
Jack gave a watery twitch of his lips as the kids started off behind Jaime. He didnt move until they disappeared over the small hill in the trail to his lake.

 

For the first time in what felt like a long time, but was more like a week, Jack plopped his ass down right where he was and let the tears fall like rain. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Aster sighed as he laid in his nest, unable to sleep. The early evening light drifting through his open door from the kitchen window had little to do with his restlessness. 

 

Aster had combed the Basque mountains, scoured the foothills and seriously considered draining the lakes until an angry Naiad had chased him off. Even then he had kept an ear out for Jack, waiting to catch his light footsteps when he landed. That boy had a serious talent for being hard to find.

 

Resigning himself to a sleepless night, Aster rose out of bed to make himself tea, and absolutely not to pace the entrance to New York like a wife whose husband was late home from work. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Sandy stood his ever silent vigil over the bayous of lousiana that particular night, ready to nod off himself. The night was clear and cool, the stars twinkling brightly as if to say hello to their lost brother.

 

One might also construe it as a warning in the years to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is the last teaser, I swear.


	5. I Thought Fridays Were Supposed To Be The Best Day Of The Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack does his thing, revelations are had and now everyone has to freak out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upon review, last chapter sucked ass. I'm hoping that won't happen again.

Jack blinked slowly as he woke up, still lying on the dirt road a few feet from his lake. The moon was still up, but the sky was the light, glowing blue of just before dawn. He shifted into sitting up, noticing that his chest had a significantly less sharp ache to it than the previous night, and his arms were less heavy than in days (weeks) past. 

 

Jack picked himself and stumbled over to the lake, still clumsy with sleep but reveling in the new ease in his step.  
It had to be four in the morning. Maybe he could get some shut eye for just a few more hours-

 

"Oh shit," he swore. 

 

Jack did a double take as he caught his reflection on the cold water. His cheeks and hoody were noticeably dirty from lying on the ground all night and his cerulean eyes were rimmed a red violet color from his (well earned) crying jag. He swore again. Normally Jack didn't give a damn about his appearance. He bathed solely for comfort in all honesty, and clothed himself just enough to be decent, should he need to go into Underhill or Sub-Tokyo for something (a good number of nymphs didn't even bother with that- and he would know). 

 

He grimaced and tugged at his shirt. This would have to be washed, and it might be done in an hour if he used a dryer. Then there was the matter of a bath...  
Jack wracked his head as to who he knew that indulged in modern conveniences. He could count all his friends on one hand, two fingers in fact. Jack kept his meager belongings in a shared slum apartment in Sub-Tokyo, a necessity after he discovered the wonders of undergarments and delved into bibliophilia. He wondered if his roommates were in the area...  
(His landlord, a lesser member of a land wealthy clan of earth elementals, had pushed another tenant into his space in exchange for a cut rate and a sketchy-at-best shower and Jack's silence on the accurate tenant number when the Big Clans held census of their properties. Then another at the price of a icebox.) Hadassah and Itsuki were rarely there, as all their off seasons fell in succession. Jack saw them roughly once a week, and he never had need of a key before.

Jack snorted, slowly back to feeling like his usual self. It'd take hours to get to Sub-Tokyo, more to break in or find his room mates. There was nothing wrong with the shallow stream a few feet from here. He couldn't believe himself for a moment. Jack Frost, caring if he looked presentable to someone, even people who might be more than eccentric friends he saw once a year? Oh no, not him.  
Jack fucking Frost didn't give any shits what people thought of him, unless it was good, and it was high time everyone was reminded. Jack cast his eyes around the forest in search of inspiration, smirking when his eyes fell on a bed of budding wild flowers, lightly shining with morning frost.  
High time indeed.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

The main office of the workshop was currently pretty quiet, no sounds but the activity outside and the scratch of North's pen. North really did check his lists, a lot more than twice, and in fact was doing it right now. Cecily Greenfield was barely cutting it this year, her sister close behind. Elie Kelly dropped to the naughty list last night, Kayla Hollis better watch herself, Shadae Jackson was a crimson splash on the nice list.  
He paused at that.

 

North squinted as he held both lists up to the light, making sure his eyes weren't tricking him. It wasn't as uncommon as he'd like, but the list was charmed to change the child's name to a bright red if they died before Christmas. North may have seen it often, but he always took a moment of silence for the child. It was the least, the very least, he could do. He took off his glasses and rested his head on the desk, willing his throat to unclench. Such a good girl, honor roll and volleyball captain, a quiet believer even at sixteen-

 

North's head popped up like a rocket as some kind of movement caught his eye. The list was changing, ever so slightly, but the stains of red on it were more prominent than it should in a wealthy country, in a non war zone. Louisiana was boasting a mortality rate in rise, of mostly... Teenagers?  
North would normally call this gang activity, brush it off, but these kids? They all still believed in Santa.  
Allison Gideon always wished for just one snowfall.  
Soren McCall asked for world peace every year, Quincy Jones had never requested anything in his life but toys for his siblings, Catherine Love ran a Christmas charity for MiMs sake-  
North swallowed hard to stifle a gasp of horror.  
Damian Corin, bookworm and lover of avant garde rock, on the fast track to a stunning novelist career, was presumably dead as of a minute and twenty seconds ago.  
Now his name was turning a starch black again, then red again, then black, flashing back and forth until North ran for the Aurora lights.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Jack smirked proudly at the scene he'd created in North's sleigh tunnel. Turns out there was a side door, big enough to let heat out and skinny spirits in. He'd slipped past Phil easily, who had seemed preoccupied when Jack had snatched a glimpse of him.  
Too preoccupied to notice a pale flash scurry past him into the fortress.

 

Not too preoccupied to come snooping around though, Jack realized as he was hoisted up by his just this side of damp hood, not even bothering to flail.  
"Aw come on Phil, it's just a little fun! Loop de loops, remember? The ice will help with speed, it'll be wicked- hey North! Make him put me down!"

 

The Guardians were gathered in a loose circle, in the same spot they'd been a week previous. Their faces were somber and North was clutching a thick tome labeled "Nice" while sitting on a wooden stool, a Yeti's work chair upon closer inspection.

 

Phil dropped Jack without further ado. He stood up and brushed himself off, trying to gauge the situation. Jack had a bad habit of enjoying black humor, but he had a feeling now was not the time. Not a fairy buzzed around Tooth.  
Not a good sign.  
"What happened?"  
North looked up with a grave face. He looked every inch his age then. Jack swallowed.  
"I... I am not sure. Cannot tell."  
Tooth flew to North's side and put a small hand on his shoulder. 

 

"Nobody is sure, right now." He smiled at her appreciatively. Jack felt worry trickle down his spine, colder than the wind he rode on.  
"Is it Pitch?" He wasn't ready for that yet. Please no. Not yet.  
North shook his head.  
''I don't think so. Like I said, nothing like it before. Its... Let me show you."  
North opened the large book, which turned out to be a binder, and turned to a clear sleeve containing a list labeled "Louisiana."  
It was simply names inked in black, nothing unusual...  
Oh.

 

A single name at the bottom glowed red and onyx, like a flashing neon sign.  
Jack quirked his head to the side.  
"Huh. And this means... What does this mean?"  
"Means we don' know what it means." Jack stiffened at Bunny's voice, right above his ear. When had he gotten that close?  
"Red means the Kid's died, or its supposed to. No rhyme to this though."  
"Died? Like took the long dirt nap? Not just stopped believing, but actually dead?"  
Sandy nodded firmly as the rest of the group continued looking at the book. Jack sighed. He had been afraid he would have to talk about this, since the moment he remembered.

 

"Lemme see."  
North gestured Jack over to his side. The name was still changing, same as a moment ago. Jack began to run his fingers down the tabs sticking out side, dating the year of each part. 1960, 1900, 1860...  
Jack flipped the tab labeled 1700s open, and quickly found the paper headed "Pennsylvania."  
"Whatcha doing Frostbite?"  
Bunny put everyone's thoughts into words, scowling to hide his curiosity. Jack ignored him, and pointed to the very bottom of the list.  
"See that?"  
The Guardians peered over the binder, unsure of what they would find. The list was completely scarlet, except for the very name Jack had his finger under.  
Jackson Overland was of red last name and black first, crisp on the yellowing parchment. 

 

Tooth flitted above the book for a better look, impatient to make sense of the colors.  
"Whose name is-"  
She gasped as realization dawned on her.  
"Oh, Jack. Oh no."  
Tooth sank to stand by Jack on the floor, hands covering her mouth as if to stop a great flood of words she wasn't sure would help or hurt. Jack smiled to reassure her. He really had not wanted to do this.  
"I have not seen this name in three hundred years. It looks fine, last time. Just fine."  
North was slack jawed on his stool, expression dumbfounded and more amusing than to Jack than strictly appropriate right now.  
"But its been three hundred years right? A lot changes."  
Everyone but Tooth was staring at Jack, equally confused. Bunny sidestepped Sandy to look Jack in straight in the eye.  
"Ok, enough of this. Did ya know the person with this name? Or do ya?"  
Jack twisted his mouth up in a deliberately poor imitation of a smile. Bunny was just never gonna like him, was he.  
"It's my name, Kangaroo. This kid didn't die. Or rather he did, and something brought him back. He's a spirit now."  
Bunny stumbled back and was steadied by Sandy, who didn't appear fazed. Jack figured a fallen star wasn't fazed by much.  
"Fros- Jack. Ya died?"  
"Jack! I had not known. Had- I svear-" North was getting red in the face. "My boy-"  
"Guys!"  
Jack breathed out slowly to calm himself.  
"You can talk shit later, alright? We need to find this kid. I have a feeling MiM didn't do this."

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Aster watched Jack on the edge of his vision, the boy laying casually on the ledge of the sleigh while he clung to the middle seat for dear life. Sandy and Tooth chatted quietly behind him, North focused on driving in front. Jack had been silent the entire ride, only cracking a joke here or there. 

He didn't really know what to do with himself right now. Aster wanted to brush this off. People died everyday. It was nothing to fuss over. But Jack wasn't just some person. Aster owed him one. It made all the difference, in the Pooka's mind. 

If Aster also wanted to snatch the boy off the ledge, press him to his chest and stroke his pale face till his brow unfurrowed, well. 

 

He owed Jack one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the slight allusion to my fav (friends) au. I'm not that sorry.  
> And yes, Hadassah is a Hannukah spirit. Because if I saw one more Harry or Henry hannukah I was gonna scream.
> 
>  
> 
> So... thinking about writing my take on Jack's years alone. It would be a series of snapshots in one fic, (featuring Itsuki and Hadassah heavily) and could possibly be made into a collection with Before It Cracks. Whaddya think?


	6. Its A Hard Rain Gonna Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack fears touch, and Pitch wants so badly touch him.

He'd wanted him since he'd seen him.

 

(But it was more than that.)

 

There'd been nothing to it. The boy had caught his eye at tooth's palace, all gangly limbs and defensive stance, defensive nature, and he'd been hooked.  
There'd been nothing to it. 

 

(Jack hadn't felt his intense stare, but the rabbit might've. He'd rectify that.  
He was used to being ignored too.)

 

Then he'd sensed the boy out. And it only got worse.

 

(Much, much worse.)

 

All the fear, all the desperation and lonliness and overwhelming urge to be accepted and know who he was; but also to shun everyone and run, run far from here til his heart gave out a second time.  
He yearned for the tightest embrace and also to cut out off contact like a bad seam, in a permanant way.

 

(Pitch wouldnt have that.  
Jack's heart would stay beating for as long as he said it would. And not a minute more.)

 

It was like a mirror of the finest ice had been brought before him, only to find a wraith trapped in its confines. He wanted to break him out, cradle that pale form to his own and will their very bones to mesh.  
He was like a lightning rod for him. Irresistable. 

 

(Even now, he was screaming out for him. He wanted frost in his skin, skating on his fingertips, trapped and thrashing under him with eyes bigger than the moon and dark as deep water.)

 

If it killed him, if it dragged him through glass and fire on his knees he'd have that boy. They'd sit together at the end of the world, and build a new one from its ashes. The Guardians thought they could take what was so obviously meant to be his? They'd learn. It was never like this before. They would all learn.

 

Cold and dark, he repeated to himself as he lay broken on the icey stone floor of his ruined fortress, awaiting armies and believers and the two kings it would soon have. 

 

Cold and dark, there'd been nothing to it. He shifted to get more comfortable.  
It didn't matter for long though. His plan was already in motion, the clock gears spinning and spinning until they theartened to fly off and crack the sky wide open.

 

(He'd bring down the stars for him. The world.)

 

He breathed a sigh.  
He was going to count their bodies like sheep.  
Cold and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. yea. I was so excited to write this chapter, I had a version in which the rating jumped to E. Which it WILL go to later. But it ended up being not whar I planned.
> 
> Everything from this Pitch's pov is gonna be a little different, depending upon his mental state.


	7. If You've Never Heard Taps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a town mourns, the Guardians land and a boy is too smart for his own good.

Friday evening was always loud in Rivet. The small swamp town was as tightly knit as a town could be, isolated by marsh land and wet roads from any neighbors. The populace was largely cajun, played live music on the weekends, had huge block parties, and generally were the kind of people who got rowdy just to stir up conversation the next day. 

 

Tonight, however, music was drifting through the street instead of open windows and backyards when the Guardians showed up. The sleigh was parked deep in the swamp, hidden in thick trees.  
Jack tried not to choke up as Taps echoed down the main drag.

 

Aster didn't turn around when he heard Jack swallow. He didn't smell tears, but knew better than anyone that did not mean much. He kept walking, the only one to have noticed. The air was just shy of muggy, and Aster found himself wondering if Jack would be alright in the heat. Before he realized, Aster was walking close to Jack's side, enough to feel a very faint coolness was radiating off of him. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Pitch dragged a hand over his favorite nightmares muzzle listlessly, to weak right now to do much more. The stone floor of his lair was hard and cold against his back, and it his shoulder blades were starting to ache. Pitch attempted to sink deeper into the cool slate anyway. He smiled slightly at the chilly feeling of it against him, letting it seep through into his bones. He sighed in contentment. It had been a fairly good day. 

 

Good a day as a immobile, powerless and only vaguely palpable spirit can have. 

 

Pitch sobered a bit at that rogue thought, but quickly beat it down. He had known this might not end well. Thats why he had a contingency plan, like always. This one though... Pitch broke into a wide smile that stretched his face oddly. This one would never be forgotten.

 

He shifted closer to the spot directly under the natural skylight cut into the ground. The wind was stronger there, the air more crisp. Pitch breathed it in deeply.  
It wasn't any matter. Pitch had come from worse, and expected to get less.

 

The Guardians had made a mistake leaving him to his own devices. 

 

They would learn.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Damian Corin lay curled up in the tightest corner of this dark, stone laden place he could find. He was lost in his own head, trying desperately to remember something good, some holy thing so he could remain calm and ignore the black, wet circle of unintelligible characters surrounding him. It had always been a trick of his to remember good things when he was scared, taught to him by his mother. 

 

Damian relaxed slightly as he thought of his family.  
Ah, there it is. 

 

He imagined he was 7 years old again, curled against the corner of his living room, next to his mothers chair, instead of this hell hole.  
In his mind he could hear her reciting a story, his sister's favorite. He knew it by heart.  
"People don't know anymore, because they've forgotten, but I remember. My mother and her mother remembered too."  
She would always draw Janie into her lap here, settling in for the story. 

 

"A long time ago, there were people who helped our world that only children can see. But they are not from this earth.  
A man came from the sky and brought all fear to the world. Another brought hope and then another dreams. The fear bringer was," here she would pause, blow her eyes wide and frightened for effect, "IS the boogieman. His name's-"

 

Damian's head shot up suddenly. He sat up and examined his arms and hands. New tattoos covered them, symbols he didn't understand and had little desire to traced his skin in long tracts of the same characters circling him. They were a deep black and glistemed like blood running down his skin. They almost looked... Alien. 

 

Damian paled as it all clicked. He looked around properly now, taking in the underground room. Cages hung from the ceiling, and several staircases seemingly lead nowhere. The shadows seemed to writhe.

 

Damian sucked in a breath and pulled on his dark hair, trying to calm down. This wasn't even possible. It was just a story! There were all just stories.  
His stuttering heart beat said otherwise.  
The boy cast his eyes on a particularly odd lump of shadow on the floor to his right, stretched out long and lean. Like....  
Like a man.

 

 

"Pitch Black?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Pitch is pretty calm here. Last time? Not so much. Also you'll get Jack's feelings on the subject soon.
> 
>  
> 
> Btw! Im twistedscartissue on tumblr.


	8. Where It's Heading ( Where'd He Go )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rivet is searched, a girl is found and a boy is lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! A plot bunny hit me like a ton of bricks and I had to heed it.

Jack had no idea what was going on here.

 

Sure he had sounded nonchalant at the workshop... But another? Another kid stuck in between life and death, forever a wanderer on a line that became so skewed after years and years and years? 

 

He scoffed internally, disgusted at whoever did this. There had been no call to arms, no wars to fight and no places to guard.   
Louisiana had a spirit, Jack had met her (while Jack was also terrified of her, the notorious necromancer had thought he was just fascinating. She still tracked him down sometimes, "Just to chat!"). 

 

Even Jack's resurrection had had an immediate purpose. Burgess had needed a protector, and still does.  
But in these times? In this way? It just didn't bode well. Not well at all. 

 

Jack snapped out of thoughts as a loud clatter echoed through the almost empty hall. The Guardians stood amongst shelves of records in Rivets town hall, digging in the C section. The Corin's seemed to have lived in this town a long time, making it difficult to get to the more modern papers. North could only get so far with his magic, a concrete address was needed before they could really start digging for the whys.

 

Tooth smiled sheepishly from under a pile of dentists records in the far corner. 

 

Jack smirked back, not really meaning it. He was well aware that the Guardians had never done something like this before, actually going out to help a child spirit. He'd long gotten over the personal sting of that, but anger for the countless others still settled in his stomach uncomfortably.  
Jack decided now was not the time.

 

A bell jingled on his left, drawing Jack's attention to the golden man below. Sandy held a elfs hat and a phone book in his small hands, smiling proudly.  
"Hey guys!" Jack shouted while returning the beam in earnest, "we found it!"

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Two hours and one (hysterical) revelation that none of them could actually use a telephone later, the group was crouching under a window sill off Main street. The house said window was framed by was a faded yellow, one story and box shaped. It was small, older and looked worn against the fresh spring grass coming in. 

 

Bunny was too large to fit under the window with the rest of them, and Jack could barely see him between the long willow leaves he hid under a few feet away. How North had ducked under would forever elude him. 

 

Jack rose up onto his knees and looked into the window, finding a messy bedroom. Clothes were strewn about in a way that suggested a lack of time to clean rather than laziness, and the bed was still unmade, sheets lumping up in the middle. The walls were a cool greenish blue and notebooks littered the solitary desk next to the closet.

 

Damian Corin had lived here, Jack thought. He had slept and played and laughed and cried in this very room, this very house, and he most likely wouldn't ever see it again.   
Jack sighed.  
He felt very old sometimes.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Jane Corin shuffled down the hall, clutching her brother's old stuffed dog tightly to her chest. The little girl was sniffling quietly, trying not to disturb her mother while she napped. Janie made a point not to cry in front of her mama too much. She felt like there was so few things she could do to help her, this honestly made her feel a little better.   
But still, a good cry was needed just like a good nap sometimes, like her mama often said.

 

Janie cracked her brother's door open, and walked inside the disorganized room sleepily. The girl climbed into Damian's bed and buried her face in his pillow, still clinging to his mossy scent after all this time. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hugged the stuffed animal tighter. Janie rolled over, intending to doze a short while only to catch the side of Jack's head as he looked at the house. 

 

Scream is really too shallow a word for the sound that came out of Janie's mouth, resounding through the room but not penetrating the thick door of Damian's room. She scrambled up as the boy shot into the room, waving his hands to try and calm her.  
"Can you see me?"  
Janie's skitter away from him answered that question.   
"Hey hey, its okay! Its okay, Im not gonna hurt you. You don't have to be scared."  
Jack offered her a gentle smile and backed against the door, sitting down and placing his staff on the wooden floor next to him. He simply sat there for a few moments, letting the girl regard him warily. After a long stretch of minutes, the child slowly approached Jack, and sat down in front of him, crossing her olive skinned arms.   
"I'm sorry I yelled, Mr. Frost."  
She whispered, voice hoarse from shrieking.  
Jack's eyes looked like they might fall out of their sockets.  
"You- you know my name?"  
The small girl nodded.  
"Mama says you bring the snow and turn the leaves."  
Jack nodded as well. A grin was spreading on his face from ear to ear, bearing all his teeth. Tooth nearly swooned from where she peeked over the window sill.  
"Yea, your mama's right. But its too late in the season for snow. The Easter bunny would kill me." Jack succeeded in getting a giggle out of the girl. He continued more hesitantly. "Janie, I need to ask you some stuff. And you need to tell me the truth, okay? Even if it's scary. Can you do that?"  
Janie simply nodded again. It seemed like she had done this before.

 

Jack breathed out slowly, struggling to articulate himself.  
"You brother, Damian... I think he might be in trouble-"

 

The girl jumped up to interrupt him, near shouting again.  
"He is in trouble! The boogeyman's got him!"

 

"What?" Jack asked in a whisper, a thrill of fear running down his spine.   
The girl started to weep in front of him, and Jack pulled her into his lap, as going numb. She clung to his sweatshirt while she sobbed out her story.  
"We were 'hic' in the swamp. Dami took the boat and we were gonna fish, but a shadow came out of the water and pulled me in. I- I tried to swim but Dami got me out. Then the shadow wrapped around him and dragged him under! Nobody believes me, but you have to!" The rest of the Guardians now crowded around the pair in the small room.  
Janie looked at Jack pleadingly. "Pitch Black took him!"

 

She collapsed and continued to cry as Jack looked at the others in shock. Their faces mirrored his own, confused and scared and angry. How did that rat bastard-

 

Janie screamed again, pointing at the corner and attempting to shield Jack from something.  
"It's right there!!"

 

Bunny's face contorted into a look of pure terror, voice rising in a shout. "Jack!"  
He lunged forward and latched onto Jack's hand, grasping it bruisingly while they flew across the hard floor.

 

His voice was the last thing Jack heard before black tendrils shot out of the half open closet and dragged them both in, swallowing them whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Whatcha think?   
> Were getting close to the original drabble that spawned this story, btw.


	9. Catch My Breath Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the one step forwards is two steps back, Jack cannot catch a break and there is a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "throws update because thanksgiving break"

Deep in the marsh outside Rivet, Breanna Jones stood in knee deep water, staining it black with the dark blood dripping off her hands. The liquid swam around her like ring, and she had her arms spread out as if to raise something out of the greenish depths.

 

A look of intense concentration screwed up her face, brow creased hard. The water began to bubble as if someone was trying breath under it, but couldn't break through to the surface. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and lifted her arms higher.  
"I've gotta try," She thought.  
"Even if he kills me, I've gotta try somethin'."

 

The murky bubbles parted suddenly, and the girl's eyes flew open as two forms shot of it into the shallow water near her.  
"Oh, thank God." She whispered. The girl raced towards the figures, splashing water high behind her and breaking the blood circle.  
One was a gangly boy with white hair and snowy skin, gasping for air as he lay in the water, clutching a hooked stick. She'd been aiming for him, but the large lagomorph that held onto his other hand was a surprise. She shook the confusion out of her head. There wasn't anytime for that.

 

"Get up!" She ordered the coughing rabbit and half drowned boy, grasping them both by the back of their necks and dragging them to the muddy shore. Aster was too busy coughing to protest, but the boy struggled feebly in her grip, pulling on the rabbit's hand to get him to move. He thrashed all the way to the shoreline and scrambled away from her on the muddy bank, pulling Aster with him. The boy was trembling and looked more scared than angry. He pointed his staff at her and attempted to stand up, only to stumble.

 

"What the hell?!" He demanded, looking no where near threatening as water dripped off him. He did a double take as he looked at her in, realizing she was human. The rabbit was catching his wind behind him, not able to pay attention to the teenagers. The girl started to speak quickly, aware of how little time she had.  
"I have to try." She repeated to herself.

 

The girl came forward and the boy backed away, almost tripping over the rabbit behind him. He grabbed his hand again to steady him, and did not let go.

 

"Look, I'm really sorry I had to do that. But I can't leave the swamp and he can't know I'm talking to you."  
The boy's knees were almost knocking together. "What?" He asked confusedly.  
Breanna continued doggedly, and prayed the rabbit was listening.  
"That boy you're lookin' for? Pitch Black took him and used every shaman and witch in this area to get him. He told us if we didn't help him he'd kill all our families. I was the only- the only one able to do it. Everyone else and every child failed. Dami-" She choked. "Damian worked for some reason. He wants to make a damn army of spirits. Spirits like you!" She pointed at the still freaked out boy, now standing there in shock.

 

Breanna could feel the water creeping up her legs, and hurried to spit out the rest.  
"Pitch has this swamp charmed to let nothing out and only children in. You have to get past the enchantments I put up and lock Pitch away! Theres no other way now."  
The water wrapped around her thighs and pulled, dragging her back into the blood ring as she clawed at the mud and reeds. The boy lunged after her and scrambled to take her hands, but Breanna closed her fists and took a deep breath.  
"You have to get him, Jack. Or theres gonna be war like you've never seen comin' down."

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

The next times he's aware, he can't breathe.

 

Jack is gasping for air, holding his staff and something rough and furry- Bunny's paw, like they're a lifeline and flailing his arms cause god dammit, _god dammit not again please not again please **somebody pull me out** **-**_

 

He's so scared and so busy panicking, he almost doesn't notice when the girl drags him out of the water. He just keeps thrashing because he has to get out _he has to get Emma-_

 

Jack remembers where he is as his back hits the dirt of the shore. He scatters back, almost falling into Bunny's lap. The hand like paw that wraps around his own and stays there allows Jack to focus on the dark skinned girls story, disjointed as it is.

 

He gets the general idea.

 

And he's never been this frightened.

 

The girl disappeared into the water and made no bubbles to follow. Jack simply stands there on his knees for a moment at its edge, and stares at the smooth surface of it and looking for her black, curly hair in vain. He doesn't think he could have gone in after her.

 

Jack can feel Aster approach behind him, still coughing. He knows in the back of his mind he should warn him back, because he's freezing all the water on him, stiffening his shirt and making him almost shine in the meanly glaring sun. Aster touches him lightly on the shoulder.  
"Frostbite?"

 

Jack jolts, and promptly falls onto his side in the mud, curling into a tight ball.  
Aster simply sits next to him, and stares intently as he shakes and shakes and shakes.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Aster is still sitting on the bank later that night, leaning against a large trees trunk. He has Jack propped up next to him. The boy is breathing softly and steadily, much to Aster's relief.

 

He had sat there for hours, watching Jack almost convulse with trembles that only stopped when he had passed out. Aster had been a soldier, he knew what a panic attack looked like. Jack's was a little odd, a little different than the textbook but he knew it just the same. The pooka had carefully gathered Jack up when he realized he was out cold, and carried him bridal style to as far from the water as he could. He had brushed the hair out off Jack's face, and his large paw lingered on his cheek, and fingered at the tears in the boys lashes.

 

Aster sighed from next to Jack as the spirit whimpered in his sleep, curling up a bit. They would have to start out of here tomorrow, and possibly through very nasty stuff. And there after Pitch would have to be dealt with.

 

But for now Aster could just watch Jack sleep, and maybe hold his smaller hand. This place was obviously rigged to kill them, after all. Jack or he could be grabbed in the night. It's better if they stay together.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Damian stared at the soaked girl on the floor, coughing up her lungs, and struggled to place her. He knew this girl, but how was just out of his reach. He had seen that dark, curly hair before, knew she wore it naturally for some reason. He knew that dark skin, he just couldn't place it-

 

Breanna lifted her head and met his gaze. It all clicked when he looked into those black, black eyes wide with fear and something he couldn't name. Shadows were closing in on her and she was reaching out to him. Damian rushed to the edge of the ring of black characters surrounding him, only to meet some kind of wall that kept him in. He pounded on the invisible wall, screaming her name as she disappeared.  
Damian slide down to the floor, still clawing at solid air and shouting, sobbing out of desperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psych! Pitch didn't quite get Jack.  
> So the truth is I get so freaked out by my family during the holidays that I may just be too messed up by their bs that I might not post till the weekend. So I updated because of that. But I might be okay this year.


	10. Scars Are Words, Bodies Are Books (Can You Read?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bunny is pushy, Jack is wary and the infamous roomates surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "throws update"

Jack is about 70% certain hes going to die here.   
He's calculated all the risks, of course. The heat doesn't hurt him, doesn't even bother him really. His body isn't conventionally human, but something like weather won't kill him. Nor will distance from snow, overexposure to sun, or even all of this damn water-

 

"Oi, Frostbite! Hurry it up!"

 

-but the goddamn Easter Kangaroo just might.

 

Jack huffs and makes no effort to speed up his stroll along the bank. Bunny's advantage of the whole "6'1-bipedal-rabbit" thing tended to get in the way of his realizing not everybody fucking walked with the stride the size of a well feed child. Bunny tapped a large hind foot impatiently as he waited for Jack, a smirk on his face. 

 

"Ah'd offer ya a race, but yer lookin' a might bit grounded, mate." He teased, as Jack swung his staff across his shoulders to keep it out of the mud. They'd been walking since a little after dawn, and the winter spirit hadn't lifted a foot of the ground. Apparently Bunny had noticed.  
"Ill hold you to that once were out of here, cottontail," Jack commented as he reached Bunny, "but Im a little handicapped at the moment."

 

Bunny's face seemed to shift at that, one brow rising as though something was donning on him.  
"Ya never got checked out at North's, did ya?"  
Jack thought of the slightly soggy gauze wrapped aroumd his arms and chest, and wondered why the pooka would care if he treated himself.

 

"It's not that- Hey!"  
The boy tryed to yank his sleeve out of Bunny's grip as he was pulled onto dryer land. Jack contemplated icing him there and pushing him into the water. A person can only be manhandled so many times in a week before they snap. Bunny jolted him out of his homicidal musings as he pushed Jack in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder to make him sit.   
"So which leg is it?"  
"My legs not hurt," Jack tried to explain, "I just don't think its a good idea to use wind here. My injuries arn't-"  
"Injuries?"  
Uh oh.

 

Bunny was now squating directly across from Jack to look him in the eyes. Jack would not squirm under his heavy gaze. He wouldn't.  
"What do ya mean injuries?"  
"Its just some scratches, I treated myself. Nothing worth looking over now, at least- Ow!"  
Jack rubbed at the patch of chest Bunny had just smacked, vaguely offended.  
"Youve got a bad habit of interupting people." He ground out.  
"Ya've got a bad habit of being a little shit." He said, taking a small pouch of his bracer. Jack started to lean away from Bunny, wary of the contact. A little touch here and there was fine, but the thought of the pooka binding up his bare chest...

 

Jack wasn't ashamed of his body. Every scar and mark made him who was. But things like skinny dipping in the roman fountains (which earned him both bruises snd love poems from the italian nymphs) and the occasional roll-in-the-hay with a stranger after a night on the town (which, Jack was begining to suspect, was the reason he was on the naughty list) was no where near as intimate as someone actually taking genuine care of you. Jack hadn't even seen a docter since his roomates had found him after 68'. And those memories certainly weren't helping as Bunny all but beared down on him.

 

Jack eyed the pouch warily, revealed to hold bandages and some kind of salve. He was already healing fast, always had, and MiM knows what else they could run into here.  
"Look, I'm already nearly fully healed. And besides," Jack continued despite Bunny's dubious look, "we don't want Pitch to know were here. I can't call wind. You know he'll find out." Jack bite his lip at the reminder. "Dirty bastard."

 

Bunny didn't back up or lift his stare.  
" You're no use dead weight, wind or no." he seemed to decide. "Best let me treat ya now or later. And Ah will be the only one around to do it later. So," Bunny finally seemed to remember personal space and backed up a bit, to Javks releif,   
"show me."

 

Jack weighs his options for a moment. Yes, he most definantly could hit Bunny in the groin and high tail it out of here, probably woukd if it were anyone else, but, god damn it, he likes Bunny. Hes everything Jack hates, full of himself and fanatical about his holiday, just plain meam at times, but if Jack knows anything he knows that the pooka isn't really that bad.   
He holds easter up like a cross because it inspires more hope than Jack can bear to think about, not only in kids but in Bunny himself. He can literally see it in his eyes. 

 

He only tells the truth, if harshly. Jack hates that from anyone but himself sometimes. But he knows. 

 

Bunny had said he wanted to help him because of this past Easter. Maybe, just maybe, Jack could fix all the screwing up hes done with the spring spirits holiday. Maybe they could be friends.

 

So it is with reluctance, but little hesitation, that the boy slowly pulls his shirt off.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Bunny, to his credit, had no gasp or comment to give. He simply had moved behind Jack, pulled off his damp wrappings, and proceeded to let Jack stare at the dirt in front of him as he prodded at the boy, waiting for a wince. None came out of his torso.  
"Nothings cracked," he said gruffly. "Just the cuts left to heal. Ya said it right, Frost."  
"Told ya," Jack muttered.   
Bunny didn't reply. He could feel his eyes boring into his back, burning all his marks like they were new. Jack doesn't know how long they sit there, almost chest to back, in the darkening swamp.

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

Hadassah groaned as she woke up, afternoon sun streaming through the window beside the bed. Fucking cheap ass landlord, won't even put in blinds. 

 

She rolls onto her stomach amd smashes the pillow over her head, trying to remember the previous night. The Ostara party lasted a whole week, and last night was... Day six? Yea, six. The girl shifted to look around the apartment, absolutely trashed from the festivities. Itsuki was asleep on the corner table, per tradition, and Jack-

 

Hadassah sat bolt up, ignoring the rush of hangover nausea and vertigo. She cast her eyes about again, cataloging. Alcohal bottles and clothes littered the floor, the house had been dirty even before (nobody really was around to clean), Itsuki, ugly wooden table, Jack's mountain of books, the lamp shade that always found its way onto the winter spirits head. All there as usual at the end of spring's first week.  
"He'd never miss it," she thinks, chewing her lip in alarm.  
"Frost will blow off alot, but he's always here for this. It's too fun."

 

"Itsuki?"  
The man moans incoherantly from the table, unmoving.  
"Was Jack even here last night?"  
Itsuki's eyes pop open, startled green looking back into her own deep brown.  
"You mean he wasn't with you?"

 

Their rising panic is interrupted by a harsh knocking at the door, louder than nessacery on a saturday.   
They don't look away fron each other as Itsuki sits up slowly. Hadassah calls out.  
"Whos there?"  
A muffled rumbling comes from behind the door, a door she knows is old and cheap, and fingers the knife in her bra as she realizes its not Jack knocking. He'd be screaming for entrace by now.

 

Itsuki is up and headed for the bed, or more likely the saber under it (a souviner from God knows where or who) when a light, female voice comes from the hallway, a bell jingling in the background.

 

"Jack? Jack are you in there?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry! Life threw things at me.  
> So Bunnys kinda pushy... and poor Jack needs a hug. Im an oc monger. Its true. Fear my kind.


	11. So How Do You Ask What Does It All Mean Without Sounding Like A RomCom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tooth is a good girl, things can get weirder and Damian can't scream loud enough.

 

" **You did _what_ to him**?!"

 

Toothiana, in retrospect, couldn't believe she was here.

  


Jack and Bunny had just- just disappeared, gone im a flash of shadow without a trace. There had been no portal or abductor, no trail to follow. It stunk of Pitch, she had quickly known, but even he would've needed help with this. North and Sandy agreed, after tearing up the closet and putting Janie to bed in her mother's room. Sandy had marked the girls house with a protective spell tailored to children and the grief stricken, and had shaken his head as they went back to the sleigh. They hadn't been in the field for so long, Tooth suspected, that that spell might be outdated. But she kept silent.

  


The sleigh ride was filled with planning, in between fairy directing and golden sand slinging. In order to find the other two guardians, they needed an item to follow scent or energy off of. Bunny's paintbrush was in the sleigh, it would suffice. Jack, on the other hand, didn't leave a thing behind. Winter spirits tended to be nomadic, so the question arose if Jack had any possessions at all. North looked a little guilty when it was brought up. Tooth knew from experience that the boy could certainly expect some presents soon, in gaudy fashion. North was proactive like that.

  


They finally decided to head to a place called Sub-Tokyo, a city under a city that Tooth had never heard of. Sandy knew Jack frequented the place, apparently had caught him dreaming there a few times, and seen him come and go. He formed a sand apartment building in the south east edge of a map above his head, later found out to be the _slum_ bordering the _red light district_ of the city.

  


Tooth had been raised properly, she'd never been to a... Place like this. It was dirty and loud and had a vibe of tension mixed with desperation. The neighborhood was groggily getting up from Ostara's festivities the previous night, and simultanously gearing up for the last days events. She had nearly shuddered the whole way down main street. Tooth would offer Jack a room the moment he was found, she decided.

  


So it may be considered just a bit rude of her to accept the tea and chair offered to her at 501 East Tsuchi avenue, sat across the table from Jack's vaguely suspicious and very, very agitated roommates.

  
  


                          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  


The twilight hung heavily over Rivet swamp as Jack and Bunny walked steadily onwards, taking more comfort in moonlight that most would. A quiet buzz, most likely a few bugs, was humming in the background. Jack was lost in a day dream until it had broken him out a hazy reverie involving fighting bridge trolls and a dashing frozen hero.  He hadn't really spoken to Bunny since they'd left the patch of dirt Jack had been treated ("manhandled," his mind sneered) on. He wasn't really in the mood to talk, too busy contemplating on his descision to try to be amiable to Bunny. Yeah, it was true, Jack was a master of screwing up. But... Wasn't Bunny at fault too? No matter anything, he knew now was definantly not the time to ask.

  


But as usual, he couldn't keep his big fucking american born mouth shut.

  


"Hey, Cottentail."

"Ta, mate?"

"Have you ever done," Jack gestured around them in a wide arc, "something like this before?"

Bunny stopped to turn and look at Jack, his green eyes drifting back to him .

"Something like wha?"

Jack's brow furrowed, the anger in his belly bubbling back to the surface. Of course he knew the answer to this.

"Just stay calm, Frost..." he thought.

"I mean something like what we're doing." He said. "Actually going out and tracking down a specific believer who needed help. Have the Guardians ever done anything like that?"

Jack wasn't raising his voice, but the sharpness of it made Bunny cut his grass green eyes at him. The buzzing in the distance seemed to get louder.

"No," he said slowly, "Ah don' suppose Ah have."

Jack scowled and looked at the mud he stood in. Of course they hadn't. He knew that.

"So you claim to protect kids but don't protect kids?"

Jack snorted, unable to stop himself. This had been stewing him for too long. "What does this all _even mean_ then? If you refuse to help the kids who don't get presents or find eggs?"

Bunny snapped his head around to him, furious. "Listen up Frostbite, we - Wha is that damn noise?!"

The hum in the distance was still getting louder, almost drowning out Jack. Bunny was covering his ears and yelling something Jack couldn't hear over the din. "What- "

  


The din wasn't getting louder.

It was getting _closer._

  


An opaque black cloud was barreling down the bank Bunny and Jack stood on, buzzing like a huge machine. Jack ran for Bunny, who was cowering with his head between his knees. Jack grabbed his shoulders and tried to haul him up, dragging him away from the dark mass.

"Bunny get UP! We've gotta go!" Jack was scrambling back with Bunny in his grip, not getting far. The pooka was immbolized by the noise, his sensitive ears overwhelmed.

  


Jack wedged a hand in the crook of Bunny's arm. No matter their differences, they were stuck together. Bunny had grabbed his hand and been dragged into the dark with him. He lifted his staff, but knew that the ice would soon melt in the spring heat. Jack stood his ground anyway.

He wouldn't leave him.

  


The cloud swallowed them and stopped, a perfect onyx bubble reflecting the moonlight.

  
  


          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  


"One more time, little girl. Who are they?"

  


Damian watched as Breanna held Pitch's stare steadily, with her open eye. Her right was swollen shut and the skin under it had busted on Pitch's knuckles, staining her face a deep maroon. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her once white t-shirt and jeans were stained with greenish swamp water and dark red and black blood.

Lots of blood.

  


Damian was panting from exertion, hands red and acheing from beating on the force field surrounding him. The two outside gave no indication of hearing him, but Breanna glanced his way a few times, when Pitch stopped knocking her around.

He prayed she said the right thing this time. "Just get out of here," he thought, his head swimming in worry and fear. "Just get home, Bre please _God please get her home._ "

  


Pitch grabbed Breanna's chin and squeezed her face.

"Well?"

"The pizza guys."

Pitcg smacked her again, hard, and Damian screamed for Breanna as she fell on her side. Pitch leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. Damian was up and pounding in the invisible wall again, chills going up and down his spine.

  


"You know what happens if you don't answer, dear. Your mother is awfully afraid for you." He hissed.

Breanna stilled, and locked eyes with Damian. Something came over face, what he didn't know, couldn't name. She took a deep breath.

"Like I said. The pizza guys." Breanna smirked at Pitch from the floor. "I even ordered anchovies just to match your-."

  


The sharp crack of Breanna's body hitting the wall rang out in the silence of the lair. She fell with a dull thud and didn't move again.

  


Damian clawed at his cage, sobbing out her name with panic and anger rising in his chest. Pitch flicked his wrist and shadows sprung out of the dark edges of the room, and flung Breanna into Damian's corner. He scrambled over to the unconscious girl, careful not to touch her.

"Oh, God." He croaked.

  


Pitch sighed from outside, and began to walk towards the far side of the room, obviously exhausted from beating the girl. "I certainly feel sorry for your delivery men, my dear." Pitch said airily as he lay down, about to sleep. "They're in for a nasty surprise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a really hard time deciding the rating on this fic. Some opinions on that would be much appreciated!


	12. Its Not A Town Without A Coven And Some Highschool Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Breanna is a sucker for that nerd, end of story.

Breanna Jones meets Damian Corin for the first time at age seven.

 

She always remembers it was stiflingly hot in the louisiana late spring, her second grade class romping a bit sluggishly around the playground that afternoon. The girls tended to one side, the boys the other, dolls and hot wheels respectively.

Breanna had complained about it to her mother the previous day, curious as to what playing cars actually entailed. To a girl with no brothers, the concept was entirely foreign to her. A strange look had crossed the tall womans face, and Bre wondered if she had made her mad.

  
  


"Baby," she said firmly, "if you wanna know what those boys play, you march over and play with them."

So, in glaring sun and air so humid she felt damp in her little white dress, she and her cousin Shadae Jackson and Katie Love (her best friend to this day) had tromped over and demanded to play cars.

  
  


She remembers Damian looking up at her quizzically, glasses sliding down his face from sweat, and thinking that eyes couldn't possibly that green. He smiled toothily and offered three of his cars to the girls. The smile was returned. They played that recess, and the next, and when summer came Bre visited her Daddy's folks in Georgia and didn't see the inky haired boy until the fall, their camaraderie lost to childhood.

  
  
  


 {}{}{}{}}}

  
  
  


When Bre is nine years old, and woke up with blood on her sheets, her mother sits her down and explains womanhood and all its horrors to her.

 

Between cringing at the physical side (Every month?!) and awkwardly listening to the birds and bees, a certain truth is attempted to be impressed upon her.

 

"Now listen to me right now, Breanna Jones. One day, you will meet a boy." Her mother looked into her coffee cup from across the kitchen table, smiling to herself. "And that boy will make you silly. He'll be all you think about for a while, and you'll think he's fine as wine," she grinned, "just like your daddy."

Bre giggled at her mother's affection. The woman continued on. "But not every boy is worth your attention. Some may be mean, or rude, or just plain stupid. You're going to a woman, and to be a woman is to be a kind of strong men can't imagine. And woman from our family are a very old kind of strong. So be strong for the right man."

 

Breanna hadn't thought much of that last bit at the time, too overwhelmed by the new information about herself (and apparently all womankind.)

  
  


She'd learn why it was important soon enough.

  
  
  


   {}{}{}{}{{{}{{{}}{

  
  
  


On her thirteenth birthday, Her mother sits her down at the kitchen table again.

  
  


Her mother has let her have the day off school, and said she'd take her and Shadae and Katie to a new movie that evening, so Bre is ready to head back to bed for a few hours. She sleepily listens as her mother pulls out a family photo album.

  
  


Bre blinks as she recognizes her Grandmother in the first picture. "These are your people." She says groggily. Bre was surprised. Beyond her Grandmother, her mother didn't speak of her clan, all besides her parents and siblings still resided in their homeland of Haiti. They'd always been misty figures in Bre's mind, distant and looming like the winter.

  
  


Her mother pursed her lips. "Yes, they are. Bre," she says carefully, "do remember the stories I told you when you were little? About santa claus and the tooth fairy?"

"Queen Toothiana." She recalls as she begins to wake up.

Her mother nods. "And you've seen them right? The baby fairies? I know you have girl." She added sharply at Bre's sour face.

"I was just dreaming." She pouted.

The woman shook her head. "You saw them. All those stories were true. And all the stories I will tell you are too."

Bre sat up straight, thoroughly confused. "What-"

"Do you remember when your cousin was so sick?" Her mother interrupted. "Do you remember me and your aunt  taking him outside on the full moon and dipping him the swamp, gave him a bottle with homemade tea in it and his fever broke that night and-"

"and never came back." she murmured. "And the doctors thought he was gonna die and didn't know why he didn't."

Bre looked at her mother.

"It wasn't tea."

  
  


She sits there with her mother for the next two hours, learning more than she cared  to really. Breanna can cast a weak spell by the end of the afternoon. By the time she has to get ready to go out, she knows what every woman in her family had to learn, what a shaman is.

  
  


At six that night, she catches Shadae's eye in the car as Katie babbled on, oblivious. The girl was older than her by a month.

  
  


Shadae had held her hand behind Katie's back the entire car ride.

  
  
  


         {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Since Breanna was seven years old, there have been three unchangeable, and incredibly obvious truths about her.

  
  


One, she cannot stand country music.

Two, she wears her wild hair naturally and that Will Not Change, Thank you very much.

Ans three, she has a very serious thing for dark hair and green eyes.

  
  


She doesn't know why, only has a vague memory of a smile on a young boys face and eyes that shined like dull emeralds. The girl doesn't overthink it; now fourteen and getting thick in all the right places. Its halfway through the school year and she can cast a glamour so strong that she and Shadae sometimes parade about as supermodels on boring nights, gets good grades and once healed a birds broken wings with nothing but swamp water.

She's kept that to herself.

  
  
  


            {}{{{}{{}{}}{}

  
  
  


 

Bre sees Damian Corin again in November of her eighth grade year.

  
  


She catches him out of the corner of her eye, all shining black hair and tanned skin, bean pole frame showing signs of a growth spurt soon to come. He's walking his younger sister to class, holding her hand with all the care to be had in the world.The schools resident lit. nerd sees her staring and smiles in greeting, all white teeth and dazzling green eyes, and the louisiana spring comes running back to her.

  
  


"So thats what they mean by 'fine,"' she thinks when he is out of sight and she can breathe again.

  
  
  


                           {}{}{}{}{}{}}{}

  
  
  


Breanna turns sixteen in the high summer.

  
  


In the summer before her junior year, Bre is captain if the debate team, one of the brightest of the school and is becoming frightenly adept at contacting (and attracting) spirits. The charms on her wrist keep them away. (Shes good at casting those too).

  
  


But above all that, she thinks, she has the three best friends in the entire damn world.

Even if one is just a friend.

  
  


Since that particular (fateful, extraordinary, wonder filled) night almost three years ago, Breanna had unsubtlety attached herself to Damian's hip. The two were regarded as inseparable by the summer, hallway treks altered and lunch periods shuffled to gain (and keep) attention. The inconvenience and tardies are worth that boy's smile.

  
  


Breanna is jolted from her relaxed state by a knock at the door. It's only noon on a tuesday, but enthused screaming can be heard outside as Damian pounds on the door.

"HEY! Birthday girl, get out here! We've got shit to tear up, people to see! Seriously, the cars borrowed..."

  
  


Breanna had thrown patterned shorts and a grey tshirt, sprinting out the door as he babbled. The car was indeed borrowed, but she and Dami ("My nickname," he had blushed and muttered when his mother called him) and Katie and Shadae and Aaron Fisher, Dami's best friend, had returned it later and covered in mud that blended in with Damians skin but Bre's was too dark for that, and she's sure its the best birthday shes ever had.

  
  
  


          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Breanna wakes up at almost seventeen in the dark.

  
  


She shivers on the cold stone as she sits up, a nasty lump on her head throbbing. The previous night comes back to her groggily, all blurred flashes. Shadae and Katie had gone out and never come back, and their mother's were worried sick, congregating at the Jones' house. Bre had gone out to sit on the porch...

And there had been a shadow...

  
  


Breanna slowly raises her head and looks around. Shes in front of a pool of water in some kind of shadowy... "Lair thing," she thinks with distaste. The pool is filled with a thick black liquid, and something rather long and lanky is floating in it...

  
  


She crawls forward, curiosity outweighing caution, and regrets it as Damian Corin's limp body comes into her view.

  
  


Her scream is stifled as dark vines cover her mouth and hold her back from jumping in after him, and pin her neatly to the floor as she thrashes, _she has to get to him-_

  
  


"He needs you," a low voice croons, taunting and no speaker to be seen. "Save him little girl, and maybe we can save you."

  
  
  


           {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Necromancy, as taught to her from a dusty book found in The Trunk That Remains Locked in mother's room, one day when she alone and curious and bored, goes roughly like this:

  
  


"...No life may be saved if another is not taken or taken of. Take the blood of a child killer, and anoint the body with it in symbols of soul binding. The death of the murderer or daemon will suffice for equivalent exchange, but a sacrifice may be used. Transfer your energy, or the energy of a virgin blood, to allow the soul to stick back. Do not, under any circumstances, allow the body to touch moonlight..."

  
  
  


          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Through her swollen eye, Bre can see Dami above her. The boy is crying, tears rolling off her nose onto her dark mahogany cheeks. "Oh God," he croaks.

  
  


She can hear Pitch in the background, but its unintelligible as she drifts out if consciousness again, but not before noticing the boys green eyes focuses solely on her own brown ones. Bre always thought tears were weak.

  
  


She knows what her mother means now, knew the moment Pitch knocked her down and hissed in her ear.

 

She found the person to be strong for.

  
  
  



	13. And A Song Will Send You Into The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pitch is a dirty, dirty bastard.

 

Aster awoke when it was quiet.

 

The first thing he registers is that it is quiet. That terrible buzzing, frequency frying his long sensitive ears till he couldn't move from the pain had vanished. Aster goes to shake himself, proverbably get the pain off, but is stalled by the tight grip on his shoulder. Jack is the second thing he registers.

  
  


The winter spirit is leaning over his shoulder, crouched defensively with his staff pointed out from him. Aster sat up and drew a boomerang instinctively. "Wha-"

"Shh!" Jack whispered harshly at him, squeezing his shoulder in emphasis. "There's somebody over there. Just hush."

  
  


Aster waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, and took in their little prison. They were trapped in that black dome, he knew, and could see it from the inside. The darkness stretched over them seemingly endlessly. Beyond them a few feet was some kind of shimmer, a bend in the blackness. Aster thought it be a wall of some kind. He'd seen it somewhere before...

  
  


"Oh holy _shit_."

  
  


Aster was snapped back to reality with Jack's exclamation. The winter spirit was slack jawed, eyebrows to his hairline and the picture was less surprised and more... Frightened.

  
  


"Holy shit," he repeated, ignorant to Aster's confusion. He followed his line of sight only to find a little girl standing beyond the force field, looking around confused. The girl was dark haired and dark eyed, thin in her brown woolen dress. She looked a bit familiar, if he looked hard enough.

  
  


Jack abruptly let go of Aster and hauled off towards the wall, slamming into and falling back on his ass. Jack got up and pounded on it a few times, testing the solidness of it. "Jack! Get back from there, ya don't know wha-"

"EMMA!" Jack cried out suddenly, sounding frenzied. "Emma come here, sweetheart just come here..."

  
  


Emma snapped her head up and caught sight of Jack, and began to holler back at him- or at least Aster thought she was, but they couldn't _hear her._

  
  


Jack spun around and looked at Aster with wild eyes. "Why can't I hear her?" he demanded hotly. "Ah think its the wall," Aster said dumbly. What the hell was going on?

  
  


Jack turned back to the girl, who was now looking significantly distressed. The young man breathed out slowly, visibly pulling himself together. A strained calmness settled over his face and he addressed Emma again. The girl was still yelling, getting frantic and gesticulating.

 

Jack shook his head and pointed to his ears. "I can't hear you. Its the wall."

The girl continued shouting for a full minute, then broke into sobs.

  
  


Jack crouched down to the girls level, and held his staff away from himself. Aster wanted to pull him back from the force field, but held himself back. "Jack's got it," he told himself unsurely. "And Ah'm right here." His hands convulsed around his boomerangs.

  
  


"Hey-hey. Everythings gonna be okay. I know youre scared. But remember what they told us in church? If you can hear your own voice singing, have no fear, for God hears you. H-Hymns cast out the devil. So sing our nursery rhyme until we can get there ok? You're gonna be fine," he added hesitantly.

  
  


The girl nodded her head weakly, with Jack inching towards her. They both began to sing quietly;

"Tick-tock goes the clock, what now shall we play?

Tick-tock goes the clock, the summers gone away."

Jacks face grew brighter every step towards the young girl, who had realized he could hear her sing only. Aster knew this kind of magic; he had found the loophole.

"Thats good! Keep going!"

They both began again;

"Tick-tock, goes the clock

He cradles and he rocks h-"

"im. Tick-tock goes the clock, even for the guardians."

  
  


Jack stopped abruptly in alarm.

"Those aren't the words-"

"Tick-tock goes the clock he cradles and he rocks him,

Tick- tock goes the clock till

Pitch kills the guardians."

  
  


Jacks eyes couldn't go any wider, and  Aster gasped at her words.

"Emma-"

  
  


Emmas face was screwed up and her eyes were shut tight, as if to block them all out.

"Tick-tock goes the clock he cradled you and you spurned him, Tick-tock goes the clock till pitch kills Jackson."

  
  


Jack stumbled back and yelped in surprise. Aster raced towards him with fire on his heels.

At his shout, Emma's eyes flew open at last and she threw herself at the wall, pounding on it and screaming to Jack.

"Jack you can't kill him! He's fear alive and you can't kill him, just get of here while you can!

Theres nothing you can do!! Just get out _get out_ GET OUT-"

Darkness wrapped like vines around Emma, pulling her back to the entrance. It was Jack's turn to rush the wall screaming, "Emma!"

Emma turned to look at him before the darkness dragged her back to Pitch. Her entire face pleading with him.

 

Her last breath was: " _Run_."

 

The black tendrils pulled the little girl back until nothing was left to be seen.

  
  


"EMMA!"

Jack fell to his knees, hands sliding down the wall and falling uselessly into his lap.

Aster saw the dome disappear around them, letting in the moonlight. He only registered it faintly as he watched Jack.

"Oh, God..." he croaked raggedly. Aster sat down next to him and reached out to put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Frostbite?" He asked uncertainly. Aster had felt that magic, long long ago in the dark ages. If a soul had yet to be reincarnated, you could summon it back. Nick flamel made the technique to save himself, and Pitch had used it before...

Pitch had used it now...

  
  


"Fuck it," Aster murmured as he pulled Jack into his lap. Jack froze up for a moment, but Aster only tightened his furred arms around the winter spirit. Aster had lost his family, lost his people, and knew what it was for a ghost to chase you.

  
  


Jack didn't relax, but he seemed to spent or scared to fight the strong embrace. The boy sobbed softly and trembled in his grasp for indeterminate amount of time. Aster wouldn't let him go, he decided. He didn't who that little girl was, or who Jackson was, but Jack was right here. His fellow Guardian was right here in front of him, hurting and breaking and completely disillusioned with the group and- Aster felt a pang in his chest- and it was partly his fault.

  
  


Aster couldn't trade every punch for an embrace, every insult and low blow for a reassurance, but MiM knows now that they could be better than this. Better than Jack hating him and being hated right back.

  
  


"Jack," he said, softer than a whisper, "listen ta me. What ya said back there, about- about the Guardians and the kids. Ah know ya don't understand, but-"

"But what, Bunny?" Jack looked up at him with red rimmed and empty eyes. It was like all the fight was almost bled out of him.

"I've wandered the earth over while you've all been cooped up in your little hidey holes. I've seen more kids die in wars, and plague, and every kind of horror imaginable than you could ever _count_. I just- I just don't-" Jack sighed and finally slumped in Aster's lap, head resting on his shoulder. The position spoke of a defeat Aster knew too well. "I have _seven_ memories of my life before," he whispered brokenly. "And I understand why MiM let me forget.                                                                I just don't understand where hope and wonder was when my brother and sisters were starving to death."

  
  


Aster shifted Jack so he could hold his head to his heart. His mother had done that, he remembered. It always managed to calm him.

"Listen ta me," he repeated firmly, though inside his guts were churning. This was something he had to tell himself far too often. "The Guardians are made for intangibilities. We can't go fight battles in human terms, or run out and feed and clothe the world. Our job," he brought up the other hand to stroke the tears off Jack's face, gazing at the boy, waiting, screaming to smell something, "is ta give people the strength ta do that themselves."

  
  


Jack met his eyes for a long moment. Those cerulean whirlpools had waves again, a tide no longer spilling out but fueling something deeper within, and Aster let a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.  

"I get that," he said after a while. "But its kinda hard to swallow. To be fair," Jack added quietly, "I think you would know too."

  
  


Aster closed his eyes and sighed slowly. He really did know. He had been mad as a cut snake when Jack made a slight against them, against what they did but... He supposed it looked slight to him, in his darkest moments, as well. "Ah know frostbite," the pooka said as he lay back. He clutched Jack to keep them pressed together, though the boy tensed again. Aster rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing way. He'd be damned if he let frost go. Nobody had held him either.

"Ah know its hard ta accept. But there are kids on every side of the equation, good and bad in every action ever taken. Theres nothing ta be done, sometimes." Aster was talking to Jack and himself. He'd struggled with this for- for as long as he'd been alive.

  
  


Jack finally, finally relaxed in Aster's grip. The boy was breathing evenly, exhausted from the day. Aster looked at the top of his head, hair shining like moonbeams, what he could see of skin pale as snow. "We can be better than this," he thinks.

  
  


"Hey, Jack? What... What happened in 68'?"

Aster waited, only to be answered by a soft snore.

  
  


The pooka sighed and simply held Jack tighter. This wasn't the place anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its finals week! "sweats nervously"  
> so i may not update til the weekend.


	14. (Ain't No Grave) Can Hold My Body Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which reputations are being learned, Pitch is complacent and guess what it can get weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhh... "hides"
> 
>  
> 
> I'm so sorry finals kicked my ass, and the holidays kill me anyway. I'm gonna try to update before break ends. Again, sorry!

  
  
  
  


"Ok," Hadassah sighed, "lets do this _one_ more time."

  
  


Tooth shifted uncomfortably in her chair, taking in the room and small group around her. The warrior queen was just that, a warrior, and sized up her surroundings as such.

Which, at the moment, she did with a near shudder. The whole apartment was trashed, everything from clothing to bottles to strange glass flasks she waited no part of were strewn about like a storm had swept the place. Tooth snickered internally, not surprised (albeit slightly disgusted) at the aftermath of an Ostara party Jack and his roommates apparently hosted. Speaking of roommates...

  
  


Hadassah was not a large woman, more of a young girl upon closer inspection, but carried herself as though she was. Her hair was a mess of black ringlets, bouncing as she moved. Deep brown eyes cut Tooth, North and Sandy rather than just looking at them, and her face was contorted in a sneer. Her skin was lightly tanned, suggesting a pallor in the winter months, stretched tauntly across her short body in an more attractive way than gaunt. A very attractive way, Tooth noted in the back of her mind. She did have nice teeth, maybe just a bit more flossing-

  
  


"Hey!" Itsuki snapped, voice ringing clear in the silence of the apartment. "We're talking to you. You got our friend kidnapped, the least you could do is pay attention." North straightened up next to her and woke up a snoozing Sandy, while Tooth blushed lightly at being caught unawares. The young man before her was still glaring, a tree spirit she could see. His deep green eyes were almond shaped, shaggy hair a mess of dark leaves and braided with vines. Itsuki's skin was what was most noticeable about him, moving with as much fluidity as a humans but shiny, a polished blond wood like expensive flooring. He was nearly tall as North, but no where near as intimidating as his roommate.

  
  


"Sorry," North ground out, "but our friends vere kidnapped too."

  
  


Hadassah raised one delicate eyebrow. "As I was saying," she spit out, "heres the story. MiM contacts you, tells you Jack's a _guardian_ , you go on a huge battle against the boogeyman and somehow win, and now theres some undead kid in america Jack and the damn easter bunny got snatched looking for, presumably by the boogey man. That all wash?"

  
  


The Guardians all nodded in affirmation. Itsuki and Hadassah looked at each other in disbelief.

  
  


"Jack's... A Guardian? I mean I can believe he got in hot water with Pitch pretty easily... How did you convince him to do that?"

  
  


North answered, puffing out his chest proudly. "Of course he vas convinced! Took some vork, da, but-"

  
  


"But what? But he joined you and your little posse of do-gooders and he was peachy?"

Tooth took in the pair's defensive postures, trying not get offended (as North steamed beside her and Sandy was oddly quiet) and began to wonder, remembering Jack's initial reaction.

  
  


"Um, guys? Why wouldn't you believe Jack joined us?"

Hadassah snorted in reply.

"You guys don't know you're reputation in places like this, do you?"

  
  


Sandy flashed a question mark above his head, and Itsuki's face softened. "Its not so much you, Sandman." He said, casting his gaze about the room like Tooth earlier, and resting it on the guests. "Its just that places like this... You know what? You'll see. Come on."

  
  


"Where are we going?" Tooth inquired as they were ushered out the door. She saw her fairies dutifully waiting for her, being directed by Baby Tooth, who had flown in at Tooth's behest. Her little face fell as she saw her mother come out empty handed.

  
  


Hadassah leaned away from the curious fairies, and stopped Itsuki from swatting a particularly aggressive one. "You need something of Jack's?" He said as they were lead down the stairs. "I wore his only other shirt out last night. I left it at a party. So," he opened the door and stepped into the light, "lets go get it."

  
  
  


           {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


_That little rat._

  
  


Who could she have summoned? His blood boiled as he tried and failed to sense out the swamp above, would've thrashed frustration if he could've fucking moved. That little bitch....

  
  


He was stuck down there, again immobile from exertion of his magical core, which needed far more time to regerate (not what he needed heneeded _thatboy_ neededhimnowneededtheGuardiansontheirknees, his mind whispered frantically at him) before he could so much as move freely. There'd been a burst of fear, he remembered, so sweet* in its surprise, so heady he was able to get up. He was still to weak to tell what it was, but he could feel water running down his skin, could feel it _frosting over_ -

  
  


Pitch bit the inside of his cheek, bringing himself out of his spinning thoughts. Blood welled in his mouth, the sharp coppery taste filling his senses and drowning out his head's screaming at him. He assumed the ice was psychosomatic, maybe a winter elemental wandered in. Not that many were young. The youngest Pitch knew of was Jack- and he knew Jack was far from here, at the Guardians beck and call. He'd bring him here when the time was right, after the shaman and her corpse were under control. The boy was still sobbing in the corner as far as he knew. He'd be more particular next time- get less of a weakling. It wouldn't be long though, until he could make the next. He would carry Jack here himself, set the boy, his boy up where he belonged.

  
  


The girl reminded him, though, that Jack was anything but submissive. Pitch chuckled darkly as he adjusted himself on the cold stone floor.

  
  


He had plans to rectify that.

  
  
  


          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

         

  
  


"What are you doing?"

  
  


Janie Corin rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with her little fist, dark hair tangled and pink night gown rumpled. A noise had woken her up- chanting of some sort drew her from her room, dragging her brother's stuffed dog behind her. She blinked and realized there was a firelight* of all things coming from her tiny living room, a group of women surrounding it. Her mother was there, and Dami's friends mother's. Mrs. Jones and Ms. Jackson were at either side of the bucket that held the flames, Miss Corin at the southern end and a woman she didn't know at the head, all sitting cross legged with linked arms. A circle of salt surrounded them, and Janie now felt some crackle under bare feet.

  
  


"Jane," her mother spoke calmly, and Janie straightened up upon hearing her given name, "go sleep in the dining room with the boys, ok? We're having a big sleepover tonight, a special one for the moms. But you're to stay out of here. Understand?"

  
  


Janie looked to her left, and sure enough Ms. Jackson two sons were asleep under her dinner table, and another girl, of maybe nine, she didn't know sat in extra chair in the corner, swinging her legs idly. She nodded blearily and trudged over, too tired to question further.

  
  


"Are you Jane?"

The little girl in the chair had moved to lay beside Janie under the table, where she had settled next to the boys. She briefly considered waking up Trey, to see if the girl was the unknown woman's daughter. She decided to do it in the morning as she rolled over to face her, brown eyes meeting her green. 

  
  


"Yea," she answered quietly, following a yawn. "Who're you?"

  
  


The girl scooted towards Janie and settled there, all but a centimeter away but carefully not touching. Her brown hair tickled Jane's face. She stifled a gasp when Janie threw an arm over her and attempted to snuggle, seeking body warmth against the sudden chill she felt. She didn't find any, only skin cold as the snow it resembled.

"My names Emma."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened.
> 
>  
> 
> Everybody like Pitch? He crazy enough?


	15. And Who Will Bring You Flowers When Its Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which alcohol, bitterness and inattention have never mixed well.

 

Itsuki's day had, in the politest terms, been taxing.

  
  
  


Waking up hungover as hell and mysteriously being half dressed was status quo for today each year, the Guardians pounding at his door and Jack's vanishing act with the easter hare was most definately not. His roomate's abscense at the Ostara parties he ran the circuit of was noticible, but he just assumed that Hadassah was dragging him to (crash) the more hoity-toity soirees (their escapade at Zeus and Hera's vow renewals was both infamous and envied by tricksters the world over). The last two nights the trio hosted their own party, which was when he started too worry. By sunset he was too drunk to notice, sake flowing wild as usual as he and Hadassah stumbled around their little apartment. Itsuki only drank hard once a year, and it never failed to get him in trouble.

  
  


"But never as much as Izo-chan sober," He thought, side eyeing Tooth and North as they walked down East Tsuchi avenue, Sandy having taken off to service the heavily glamoured by him.

  
  


Itsuki grimanced at his slip up, even in his own mind. Jack didn't know of his nickname, something too informal to call him in Itsuki's culture, despite having lived with him for over a century. He saw Jack roughly once a week, actually hung out with him maybe once a decade. It wasn't near as close as one should be to be thought of in his first name alone, but Itsuki couldn't help himself. He barely could justify calling Hadassah by her first name, though they spent more time together by far.

  
  


But, he would never admit, sheerly out of shyness, the forest spirit thought of the two winter spirits as his closest contacts. Being Guardian of a forest on a remote mountain made for sparse company, and you do not want to screw with the Tengu clans.

  
  


Itsuki saw Hadassah continue to lead them down the main drag instead of ducking through safer routes. He withheld any comment, knowing what she was doing. He hadn't lied in his anger this morning. The Guardians were not well received in the spirit cities, and had gotten their friend fucking kidnapped. Talking about them at all could be dangerous, if you couldn't back it up. And now he had to escort them through the entire east quarter of the city. Despite his principles, that lot was exempt from his manners. A bitterness lolled around his head like wind in a box, looking at Hadassah out of the corner of his eye, thinking of Jack.

Itsuki chuckled to himself without humor. Being Jack's roommate was never boring.

  
  
  


          {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Tooth gazed about the street under her glamour, leaving her disguised as a young nymph with brown hair and dark skin, nice and non descript. The urge to fly was burning in her shoulder blades and wings, but she held back. Why she and North (who was wearing the appearance of an abnormally tall tree sprite, a different type than Itsuki, maybe maple) had to disguised at all eluded her, but Tooth knew when not to ask questions.

 

The earlier comment, on their reputations... Why would they be bad? Her stomach felt like a stone had settled there as she mulled it over. They had been inattentive, yes, and came off as cold because of it. Bunny had a temper, North bowled over any way but his own, Tooth lead an army, that spoke for itself... But what had they done? She wished suddenly for Sandy to be here. He would know better than them.

  
  


A rock lodged under her foot brought her out of her thoughts and back to east tsuchi ave. The colors of the street were brilliant in the afternoon light, spirits of all kinds milling about. Apartment buildings were lined tightly together, rundown and some missing chunks of their original structure, exposing their metal skeleton work. Street vendors and wooden stalls were laden with food and trinkets galore on the cracked sidewalk, decked out for the last days festivities. The avenue was crowded and loud with shouting merchants, visiting neighbors and hungover party goers either planning their own celebrations or stumbling home from the previous nights. Dirty, unsupervised mainly humanoid children were weaving through the horde of people, picking pockets and chasing each other.

  
  


"Vhat are children doing here?" North asked in a shocked voice, as one nearly brushed his leg in their haste.

  
  


Hadassah looked coolly behind her, never stopping as they turned the corner. "They're not kids," she explained in a detached tone, "they probably just became spirits when they were still children. Its not uncommon," she added in a murmur.

  
  


North sputtered again as Tooth processed her words. Humans being chosen for duties above their mortal abilities wasn't at all unheard of- they were literally the stuff of numerous legends. She had never truly considered just how many of those were genuine. She and the old cossack shared a dubious look as they continued to follow the strange spirits leading them, silent and guarded on the road.

  
  
  


           {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


The group wandered the lively city for near an hour, Tooth getting more and more antsy as the time passed. Baby Tooth was handling herself fine, but she was never at ease without her girls. Following two openly mistrustful beings in unfamiliar territory was not comforting either. And they couldn't afford to waste any time-

  
  


"Here," Itsuki announced, tugging open a thick wooden door. The building it attached to was a red brick monstrosity, bigger than most of its surroundings and slightly less worn, suggesting a stronger internal structure. People seemed to be hanging out of the windows and on fire escapes, dangling their legs off the roof, most likely talking about the previous nights antics. The first parties would be starting within a few hours, but the gatherings looked practiced, the men and women at ease perched precariously across the brick and stone.

  
  


The inside of the building was dimly lit, and stains and scratches covered the off color walls all the way up a long, wide stair case. The group ascended in relative silence, until Tooth noticed the doors.

  
  


"What are those marks?" She questioned, running her newly brown skinned hand over long claw like slashes in the flimsy wood. They seemed to contain no magic, so they weren't territory markings...

  
  


"Huh?" Hadassah seemed to have been jolted out of deep thought. She tossed her head to look at Tooth, getting dark curls out of her eyes and cascading them over her right shoulder. Tooth swallowed hard as she gestured to the walls and doors.

  
  


"Oh those. Well," the girl began, as though it was difficult to explain, "Sub- Tokyo is run by a council of a bunch of clan heads at the moment, each having footing over the specific parts of the city. Kind of like warlords. Following?"

Tooth and North nodded as they continued up the stairs, apparently headed to the top floors.

  
  


"Well before the clan heads worked as a council they just had meetings occasionally, and their land holdings depended sheerly on what they had the power to take. All these marks, the buildings that are half gone," Hadassah gestured sweepingly, her plain grey dress twisting the cap sleeves on her arms, "are leftovers from territory disputes. They aren't that bad anymore, since the establishment of the councils. But as you saw... It got bad. I'm surprised you didn't know that." The girl's flat tone was decidely unsurprised.

  
  


Tooth felt North stiffen beside her. Of course they didn't know the going ons of some spirit city! They had jobs-

  
  


That exact sentiment was about to come out if her mouth when they stopped outside the second to last door on the third to top floors hallway, and Hadassah spoke again, tone much softer.

  
  


"Thats how I met Jack," she added, almost to herself, as Itsuki simply walked in and shut the door behind him. "He was avoiding the clan wars when they bombed his neighborhood, drifting anywhere he could. And he found he that night... Out in the snow..."

The girl's eyes were suddenly a thousand miles from the dirty hall they were standing in, a place beyond Tooth.

  
  


Itsuki emerged from the apartment with a white racerback tank in tow, and dropped it into Tooth's hands. She looked closer at it as he gently guided Hadassah along, and saw it was more of a sheer off color creme, old and worn. It was frayed at the edges as though it had been worn often, and by people of many different statures. The tag's writing suggested it may have originally Hadassah's.

  
  


She could feel her heart drop as the pieces came together.

Jack and Hadassah's appearances, the children roaming this place with not a care free pace but a careless one, their "reputation"...

The jagged and angry picture they made was explaining far too much.

  
  


She couldn't bring herself to speak as she went down the stairs again.

  
  


North had looked confused the whole time, but heeded the look Tooth gave him, keeping quiet. She didn't know how to explain what they had done. One boy, one anomaly was one thing, a necessary evil. But to suggest that this much, this _many_ had been overlooked-

  
  


Tooth looked down as she stepped out into the sun, and saw a meager smattering of flowers creeping up between cracks in the buildings front walkway. A chill ran down her spine.

  
  


Every child is a flower, Bunny had once said, in a dark moment. They can come from good soil or cracks in stone, but its our job to care for them just the same. Doesn't matter what their circumstance, where they are. Its still our job.

  
  


What had they done indeed.

  
  


      {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Hadassah and Itsuki watched the sleigh take off from the roof of their building, the sun just beginning to set. Parties could be heard starting below, the bars opening and street lights going up. The girl smoothed her A-line dress, scuffed her leather boots on the concrete in contemplation. The look Tooth had given her as she gazed back from above her- Hadassah shook her head as if to chase the sympathetic ache in her chest away. She had bigger problems.

 

“Itsuki?”

“Hmm?’

“You have to be back in your forest in… Like a month?”

“Something like that.”

Hadassah nodded to herself firmly, and eyed him curiously.

“You’ll need to put a shirt on before we go.”

A grin rose unbidden to the tree spirit’s face. “Hadassah-san. Are you considering tailing them?”

“You bet your wooden ass I am. Get dressed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izo as I've learned means ice/iron. Jack got this nickname during of the clan disputes, which will be explained later. Hadassah's origins as well.\  
> Oh and tsuchi means earth, which is spring's element.


	16. Thoughts Are So Loud They Can't Get Out Of My Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack contemplates his lucid dreams and hopes the giant furry (muscly, warm, attractive) thing under him doesn't have to pee anytime soon, and Aster is in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... A hopefully not so depressing little chapter. And yes, there is a legitimate reason nobodies eaten or gone to the bathroom yet (cause I wonder all the time like damn Katniss take a piss you might feel better)

 

Jack would the first to admit his imagination was a bit... Active.

  
  


In his defense, it kind of had to be. "You try managing Antarctic winter without any reading material," he once said hotly to his roommates, ears burning violet as they had snickered at him, face bruised from walking into a door while daydreaming.

  
  


(Funnily enough, that memory was a warm one now. The proverbial ice had been broken that night. While uncomfortable with the crowd at the time, Jack had been politely yet forcibly dragged to get noodles at the weather beaten shop down the street, nearly screeched at the octopus headed ocean spirit manning the counter, spilled his order and made his first friends ever, to his knowledge then.)

  
  


They eventually coaxed, though sporadically and in between running out the door every other day for months at a time, Jack into looking where he was going. And checking himself in buildings. And not screaming at a shoulder tap. But habits are hard to break, especially ones that can keep you alive. A colorful tale, weaved of solitude and ice, warm and bright and cast filled was an escape Jack could not do without. He had long given up hope of having a story to return to. So Jack kept daydreaming, and when he slept, which was rare unless he was injured, his first waking moments tended to blur horrifically between reality and his (occasionally warped) mind. He didn't come out swinging or anything (after awhile), just... stayed quiet until his eyes cleared.

  
  


So, ya know, the slightly muggy air he breathed in that morning wasn't too weird. The scent of water and dirt, and something light, musky was only a remnant of a half remembered dream. Maybe Itsuki and Hadassah had crawled into bed with him as they were wont to do at the most inconvenient of times, maybe they were all passed on the street after a party. It was Ostara week, wasn't it? Jack decided to open his eyes to check in a few minutes. He was awfully comfortable, wherever he was. He snuggled deeper onto his street curb, and-

  
  


Abruptly froze as the ground rose under him, rhythmically.

It was breathing.

  
  


Little morning confusion, not too odd. Jack could take that in stride.

The large, warm, breathing furry thing  he woke up on top of was still a bit jarring.

  
  
  


Jack blinked once, twice in rapid succession to shake the haze of sleep off his mind, try to get a feel for his surroundings. All his vision filled with grey fur, his face pressed into it by what felt very much like a heavy hand on the back of his head. Said hand was attached to an equally cumbersome arm covering his shoulders, as the other wrapped around his waist. Jack squirmed a bit, trying to lift his head up. The result was his captor (acquaintance? One night stand? Did he owe this guy money or something?) tightening the embrace to halt his movement. He heard it huff and... Did it just snuffle? Like a rabbit?

  
  


The winter spirit drew in a deep breath, catching a whiff of fur. Sunshine and chocolate, maybe something a little flowery. Jack was sorely tempted to lay there a while longer, wrapped in a warm, soothing embrace of this stranger. The arms that held him were well muscled, whipcord and strong without being obnoxious, the chest solid but not concrete. Jack had never attempted to deny his sexuality, but he thanked any God that deigned to watch over him for a lack of morning wood. The whole thing was comforting, for some reason he could not name. He didn't want to leave. "Don't be a creep," Jack told himself, shaking off the thought. This guy probably had places to go, people to see. A bathroom to use, he realized worriedly. He slowly let out the breath, frosting it in his mouth to a shivering breeze, and waited as the dew formed under his cheek. Just one more second...

  
  


"Ha!" Jack exhaled triumphantly as his head was freed, the being under him shifting to scratch at the cold spot. Jack wriggled up to name him, hell maybe ask for a replay of whatever last night had entailed. He could feel his clothes on himself, but such fodder could be negotiated...

  
  
  


Bunny's turn to be startled came about two seconds after Jack screeched loud enough to send birds flying for five miles.

  
  
  


           {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


The good thing about this swamp (“Bleeding hellhole is what it is,” Bunny had groused as they trudged along) was that they didn’t need an detailed plan of attack. Just follow the sun east, and wait to encounter the border. Enchanted or not, it still existed right? Plus with whatever… traps Pitch had set, or rather forced shamen to set up for him still waiting to be sprung, they had no choice but to wander blind.

 

Jack snuck a glance at Bunny, the two walking in relative silence. After hastily explaining that he had forgotten where he was momentarily, the pooka had calmed down from his defensive stance, springing up weapon in hand and posture coiled straight from sleep.

“I’m sorry. I just freaked out is all,” Jack had tried to say softly, “When I woke up and saw you, I thought…”

The winter spirit may be on better terms with Bunny than two weeks ago, but he wasn’t sure how to tactfully blurt out I-thought-we-had-slept-together-and-was-ready-for-round-two-plus-wow-you’re-attractive. Jack was never more glad to have a killer reaction time as he adjusted to the past weeks memories flooding in while Bunny had looked around for whatever he thought had made Jack scream. At the boy’s words he seemed to deflate for some reason. “Yea,” Bunny had sighed, to Jack’s confusion. “Ah get cha mate. Jus’... Lets just go.” Jack followed, but did not question whatever cloud seemed to hang over the pooka the rest of the day. He didn’t really have a leg (or staff) to stand on there. He blushed a reddish-purple as he averted his eyes quickly. Now was not the time to contemplate his newfound appreciation of Bunny. Jack had never discriminated in his partners, the prejudices and proclivities of culture lost to him due to his second upbringing, if you could call it that. He just knew he liked a deeper voice, wanted somebody to shove him against the wall and have their way with him instead of the opposite. A little fur couldn’t be off putting, hell Itsuki was made of wood and Jack thought he was hot shit at first sight (not that it panned beyond that). Yes, this was most definitely a self introspection to be had much later. Preferably far from Bunny, most importantly, and a watery death trapped rigged with halluciationatory magic...

 

Jack shuddered at the memory of that black dome, his second youngest sister screaming as she was dragged away from him. her face an echo of his own down the long hall of time. He thinks that maybe he should tell Bunny, about his life, his family. His death. On a level he wants too, wants all this pain to get out of him, too lay it on someone else. But that's not fair, he chides himself, and the pooka obviously isn't talking about last night. No use just being shut down, as he'd learned long ago, the hard way. On the other hand, maybe he shouldn't have let Bunny see him so weak... He should be grateful the jokes havn't started yet. The illusion would haunt him for a long, long time with or without spilling his guts about everything. A chill crawled up his already cool spine again. It was just an illusion. Right?

  
  
  


            {}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

  
  
  


Aster kept his head pointed straight as they went on, but couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to the younger (much younger, so much younger than he would ever fathom) spirit at his side. After last night, the girl and their conversation, the tears and concessions,  Aster thought they had a foothold onto a tenuous friendship, or at least a mutual trust. He hadn’t offered comfort out of pity. He considered Jack his fellow now, not just in battle. You don’t hold someone through the night without establishing _something_ damn it. Even if it wasn’t entirely two sided, Aster thought glumly. He shouldn’t have forced that on Jack, he knew, but Aster felt it would do more good than bad. That idea was shattered into a million pieces when Jack had leapt off him the morning, screaming at the top of his lungs, and scared the ever loving shit out of the pooka. His soldiers training had kicked, coming up fighting whatever gave Jack such a fright. The boy’s frantic explanation stopped him, but didn’t serve its calming him.

 

If anything, it only upset him more.

 

“I’m sorry. I just freaked out is all,” Jack had said in a voice raspy from sleep, trying in vain to smile convincingly. Aster winced at the attempt.“When I woke up and saw you, I thought…”

 

“Yea,” he had replied. Yes, because he knew exactly what Jack had thought. What else would he have thought, what other memory did have to asscioate with the Easter Bunny, seeing Aster looming in his hazy morning mind? Easter 68’ replayed itself in Jack’s cerulean eyes that glimmered, not from sunlight but from fear. And Aster had immediately made to attack, what it must of looked like…

 

Shame boiled in the pooka’s stomach as he glanced over, seeing a frosty blush over the boy’s face. It was _him_ who should be embarrassed Looking at him now, he seemed so harmless, so slight.The kid needed to eat more, if winter spirits did all. The magic keeping Aster alive allowed greater freedom from such mundane things, a meal (and other things) being a loosely weekly thing. Aster was three times his weight easily, three or four inches greater in height.

 

There was a pale silver line descending from his left collarbone, as Aster caught yesterday. Upon thinking, he realized it was a scar. From a thin, blunt claw.

 

His claw.

  
  


Aster still had no clue what had lead up to that damned blizzard, but his curiosity was greater than ever. And his guilt. By all means, he should just apologize and get it over with, put this unpleasantness behind them. It was easier to run from his feelings to deal with them, and he didn’t want to provoke Jack anymore than Pitch was out to. And his dreams that night were not a help.

 

As they lay in the dark, the pooka’s mind had danced beyond his body, taking Jack with it. Aster dreamt of the warren, late night in high spring, in his favorite nook. He laid there with Jack hugged close to him, the moonlight drifting softly through the winter spirit’s pale hair, the color of star light. Aster rubbed soothing circles in his waist with one hand and reached up to gently caress his hair with the other. Instead of the dead weight exhaustion sapped  from him in reality, Jack was curled up on Aster in a relaxed way, head nestled over his heart, hands resting on his shoulders.The pooka hadn’t been this comfortable in a long time, and leaned down to snuffle Jack’s head, taking in the scent of fresh snow and something innately Jack, and- there it was. Exquisite, Glorious _hope_ radiated off the boy, hope for snowball fights with his believers, for eggnog and laughter at the Guardian meeting, for snowy winters and life filled springs. Hope to wake up to Aster’s own face in the morning, smiling, loving. He raised his head at Aster’s touch, and smiled so sweetly at the pooka, face framed with the flowers of the spring valley and eyes shining not with fear or mirth, but something much softer. He felt his chest hitch, and held Jack tighter. There was no remorse fueling the protective warmth building at the sight, only affection for the pretty face looking at him like he was a blind man seeing the sun. They belonged here, _he belonged here_ , safe and content right here in Aster’s arms. His life's memories were hazy in his dream, but he knew that.

 

 

Then the spell had broken.

Reality came crashing back, so did all their encounters, the memory of Jack’s broken body on red snow, Aster’s rage and completely unwarranted sense of utter betrayal, and the ridiculous amount of hate the two had held for each other until recently. He was going to have to think long and hard on just what kind of relationship he had thought he and Jack had had before 68”. It went beyond their interactions, even now. While the dream troubled him for so many reasons, his distinct lack of those feelings for Jack being just one, he’d be lying if he said the sheer impossibility of that beautiful scene was not the biggest one.

 

He caught Jack out of the corner of his vision again, and imagined they were walking through the warren instead of this accursed watering hole. The winter spirit walked lightly there, as he did everywhere, and brought a slightly cool breeze instead of the deathly cold he had once thought accompanied him, leaving only dew in his wake, not ice or frost even. Jack would ooo and awe at the flora, extinct species from delphinium to star-of-bethlehem, pine trees to palm, just like had he seen him do this Easter. Aster could take his time now though, lead Jack leisurely through the gardens and valleys, name all the plants and flowers. In his minds eye Jack cupped his much larger hand and trailed it over the lush petals of a white tulip, before Aster laced their fingers together, holding Jack’s small fingers between his own as if their were fragile gardenia stems, bumping shoulders as they walked on…

 

Aster shook himself out of his daydream, tore his eyes away. Tried not to think at all, ignore his trecherous thoughts whispering to make conversation, too reach out and touch, even if innocently. He didn't even have a right. Kept his head straight. Walked on.

  
  


Probably should've looked behind him, in hindsight.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attraction isn't good as the foundation of a relationship, but you can't deny it helps! Bunny and Jack are starting at totally different ends of the spectrum with each other, working towards the dreaded median. 
> 
> (So I used flower language, freaking judge me. +10000 to anyone who gets it!)


	17. And Someone Is Playing A Game In The House That I Grew Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a man's capacity for intelligence is grossly overestimated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to post chapter 17 on my seventeenth birthday, it just kind of happened. I feel so old.

 

Damian started awake at a far off sound, too muffled to be intelligible but still ringing like a scream through his ears. He closed his eyes again and curled more tightly around Bre, careful of her bruised form but needing to assure himself of her presence. His hand skirted a particularly nasty lump on her arm, and he winced out of sympathy. She made no sound, only continued to breath slowly.

  
  


Damian cursed himself suddenly. He wasn't cut out for this. The boy had played hot wheels until he was fourteen, babysat his sister unbegrudgingly, he wrote poetry for christ's sake! Boogiemen didn't go after pansies like him. He couldn't even get that stupid boat started right, after years of taking it around the swamp. Thats why they were all in this mess in the first place.

  
  


The motor had stalled in eerily still water that day, his sister kicking her feet off the side as he fiddled with the machine in the late afternoon's fading sunlight. Shadae and Katie were missing, his mother had told him earlier. Damian had taken Janie fishing to keep her occupied, just as much as to distract him from his own rampant worry. He had met them through Bre, a small group forming as the years wore on. His best friends were just... Gone. The boy swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together right then. He had to get back, find Aaron and Bre. They should all be out looking, he decided. If they couldn't find them, nobody could. He turned to tell Janie as the engine roared back to life, masking the sound of water rushing toward them.

  
  


Janie had screamed as she was dragged into the water, some kind of black vine snatching her from the boat. Damian blessed his mother for that horrid summer of forced baseball as reflexes kicked in, his fingers closing around Janie's shirt by an inch and pulling her back in. He shoved her back towards the motor, covering her small form from the water. "Get us out of here," He said softly as he could, trying to keep his panic down. His hands were clutched around her torso behind him, and felt her diaphragm spasm in a sob.

  
  


"Damian," she choked out, "I'm scared."

  
  


Damian drew in a breath to calm himself and turned around. "I know, I know." And god, did he. He didn't even know what that thing was, let alone what it could do...

"But you're gonna be fine."

He heard her sob shortly.

  
  


"You promise?"

  
  


Damian remembered breathing slowly, contemplating. He could hear the water sloshing around in a way that was most certainly not the boat. That... thing was coming back. Coming back for them.

Could he make that promise?

 

 

Janie sobbed again, and her small fingers fisted themselves in his shirt. Her shaking form pressed tight to his back, and tears stained his shoulder. He'd held this girl as a premie. He'd walked her to school, fed her from a bottle, been her first friend.

"Dami!"

Could he not?

  
  


"Yeah," he said, even as the small boat rocked unsettlingly. He saw black sludge climbing up the side, not a vine at all. A shadow. "You're gonna be fine."

  
  


Janie's screams rang into thin air as he was pulled under, air bursting out if his chest as he struggled. He couldn't see anything beyond murky green liquid, filling his lungs and stinging equally green eyes, and he felt his glasses float away. It felt impossible, but his vision blurred even more and blackened at the edges. Visions danced in front of his speckled sight, his life playing out in sequences and clips that could absolutely not be seventeen years.

  
  


Five years-

  
  


He walks to school with his father, walks him to the park, just walks with him and he holds the man's large hand like it holds the whole world. His mother is a beautiful deity, good and loving. The whole is sunshine and family and higher daddy push me higher, hold on kiddo you'll break your neck, just one bigger smile.

  
  


Ten years-

 

(He feels like he's on fire, how is that even possible-)

 

Janie is born, small enough to held in the palm of his hand. There are doctors and hospitals, bills and a move. He sees his sister in a glass box, the cutest red squishy thing ever, if he does say so himself. He can't be anything but indignant for Janie when his father walks out the door, or else he'll fall apart.

  
  


Fifteen years-

  
  


(His blood is boiling, tiny explosions that rebel and resound-)

 

Bre is back in his life, and her friends, and Aaron is there. All the awkward loneliness of middle school is behind him, the not-fitting that still dogs him has lessened. He loves his life for the first time.

  
  


A few days ago he caught Bre looking at him, like... Like something. He feels like he's waiting for something when looks back. But he doesn't dwell.

  
  


(Its all black now, how could that possibly have been seventeen years-)

  
  


Another noise snaps Damian back to reality. Bre is croaking at him, and he sets her down as gently as he can in haste.

"L- Look-"

"Look at what?" He whispers, mindful of a possible audience. The boy restrains himself from brushing her hair off her face, minding her swollen cheek.

  
  


Bre has the nerve to roll her eyes at his worried expression.

"Look up... Dumbass."

  
  


For the first time that hour, Damian has the presence of mind to register sunlight on his skin.

  
  


Bre grins at him, as if it explains everything.

"Ta da."

  
  


 

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Emma skipped around the Damian's bedroom, idly looking through drawers and shelves, trying to catch a particularly strong scent. She left Janie asleep under the table, after sliding careful under her arm, past the coven in the living room. It was with no small amount of mirth that she wondered how a witch made it this far south, ticking off items as she smirked. She stiffened momentarily as curious magic from the living room brushed against her, then brushed her off. The game they were playing was dangerous, weaving spells to protect children that were rabidly sought after by none other than Pitch Black. But all magic was a game indeed.

  
  


"Now wheres- Ah. Here we are!"

  
  


Emma triumphantly held up a well worn pair of glasses, old but still intact, obviously a spare pair. She grinned tucked them into the folds of her wool dress, giving the bundle a satisfied pat. That should lead her straight to the boogieman, and Jack.

  
  


Pitch thought he could mess with the underworld, could summon a soul then expect it to just go back meekly? Emma had wandered the fields of elysium for a long, long time. She knew that Pitch had expected a shallow imitation of a scared little girl, hiding behind her skirts. It really was pitiful, how stupid he could be. Emma Overland, after 300 years dead and conscious there of, loosed by a man who dared use her to harm her family, weak and mild?

  
  


"Psh," She muttered to no one. As if. Her brother was Jack fucking Frost, trickster of infamy. No matter his good deeds, there was a streak of mischief a mile wide in him.

  
  


Emma decided to take a queue from the woman out front, trussed up to the nines in their shields and spells. Her brother was a master of games.

She couldn't make him look bad, could she?

 


	18. NOTICE

Hi all!   
I'm sorry to say that I'll be putting this story on hiatus until at least march. I need time to figure out exactly where its going, and my characterazations, also as I'll be taking my SAT/ACTS in the spring I'll be swamped with school for a while. I really am so sorry that I have to do this but its just not going to be any good at all if I force it amd I want to be proud of my work and not disrespect my readers by shoving crap at them. All my other stories will continue as usual and again I'm so sorry.   
Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So... here it is! My continuation of my oneshot Before It Cracks. I hope to update regularly. Thanks for reading.


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